The Torn Prince
by Mogitz
Summary: PART II NOW UP! After the fiasco in Arendelle, Hans returns home to await his trial. When a very ill Anna arrives to testify, will it help him evade his punishment or lead him to the hangman's noose? CHAPTER 11: WARMING UP! Hans nurses his broken hand, decides to give Anna a tour of the castle. Meanwhile, Kristoff and Elsa decide to leave for the Southern Isles to fetch Anna.
1. Prologue

**A/N:**

**This fiction was inspired by a recent article I encountered that stated that Hans was not initially meant to be a villain, which ultimately led to his twist at the end being so unexpected. This is my version of Frozen, as shown from Hans' perspective. Ultimately I am planning on this fiction favoring Anna and Hans as a coupling, as well as a good explanation for why he betrayed her so badly. Forgive me, for this chapter holds a lot of back-story in the beginning of Hans and his brothers of the Southern Isles, but it is important to the plot throughout the story.**

**Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!**

**UPDATE: The first 7 chapters parallel the movie, to begin the sequel (Part II) skip to Chapter 8, The King is Dead.  
**

_Prologue:_

**Let Him Go**

Candles adorned the massive, dark mahogany table that was set for fourteen. Tapestries of green and gold graced the walls, dressing the room in elegance and poise. The family crest was a repeating theme throughout the grand dining room: A green shield, guarded by two chained wolves and Latin banners that read "Fortem Posce Animum" or "Wish for a Strong Mind."

Eleven brothers sat, awaiting their father, King Elias, to meet them; he had news to share. They were all of varying ages and physical appearances, although sharing a similarity that proved their relation. They waited patiently, quietly, eyes studying one another and making silent judgments. Although they were quite accustomed to this kind of cruel behavior, this wasn't just an ordinary dinner. Significant others were shut out, taking their dinners in another wing of the castle. This was a confidential meeting, one to discuss the Southern Isles and broadening its borders, by any means necessary.

Over the years, trade between Arendelle and the Southern Isles had been steady, cordial. But with the recent news of Princess Elsa's coronation under way, it was time to finish what had been started many years ago.

The eleven men were startled from the loud boom of the dining room doors opening with some force. Their eyes were fixated on the proud, bearded king as he stalked into the room without a word. He stood, towering and almost menacing over the princes. They stood out of respect, and possibly fear, waiting for their father to take his seat. He cleared his throat and ran his gloved hand over his mustached mouth, his eyes narrowing.

"Where is Hans?" his deep voice bellowed. The sons looked around in confusion, unaware that the youngest prince was even absent. Although, this was nothing new. Hans was frequently forgotten.

On cue, the door to the dining hall opened once again, and Hans peered into the room nervously.

"Get in here. You're tardy," King Elias said gruffly, he had no patience for any delays.

"I-I'm sorry father. I just-"

"I do not have time for your excuses. Be seated," he said, slightly reddening. Hans shrunk under his brother's glaring eyes, hurrying to his seat. For one of the millionth times, he wished he was actually invisible, as opposed to how his father and brothers had treated him. At least then they would have an excuse. The great king and his sons were seated.

"We have received word from Arendelle," he informed the group. "We are to send a royal representative to attend Princess Elsa's coronation."

"Has the time come already?" the eldest son, Prince Elias III, asked. He was much older than Hans, who had only just passed his 23rd year.

"Aye," the King nodded. "Princess Elsa was to marry by her 21st year, to ensure the Southern Isles would have an heir married into Arendelle. As you know, we have been trying to get our betrothal negotiations back on track that were ceased after the passing of King Agdar and Queen Idun of Arendelle."

"But father," one of the sons spoke, Prince Galen. "Who will it be? Felix is surely best suited for rulership of Arendelle and closest to her age, but he is married to Adelaide."

"I am aware that Felix was the first choice, that had been agreed upon many years ago between both kingdoms. But with the passing of the King and Queen, those plans and promises went along with them. We no longer have contracts and treaties, we are no longer ushered in freely. Their will stated that the princesses were to have free will, which means she must be courted if we will see any union of families. That is what tonight it about."

The room fell silent as the princes took in the information. One of them would be sent to Arendelle to take the crown, but who? Their ages, statuses and demeanor varied so vastly that there was no solid choice.

Long ago, long before Hans was even born, King Elias took over the throne as the king of the Southern Isles. Humid in temperature, a mostly mild climate, this land was lush and bountiful. Through their various trade connections and allies, the people of the Southern Isles lived quant, fulfilling lives.

Through a forced marriage that eventually led to love and devotion, King Elias wed Princess Astrid, who became his queen. She was fair and loyal, lovely and kind. She spent most of her years as queen with child, bearing the king twelve healthy sons.

First born was the strong and stubborn Elias III. He was heir to the thrown and had never had to work hard to gain his father's favor. He was married to Princess Giana, who would take her place as queen when King Elias inevitably passed away.

Next was Frederik and Galen, who weren't twins but might as well have been. The brothers bore a striking resemblance and were born only ten months apart from one another. Prince Frederik was a self-proclaimed bachelor, more interested in scholarly pursuits while Prince Galen married quite young: a duchess from a neighboring kingdom and bore him two princesses of their own.

Prince Andreas was fourth born, but had perished of illness only three years back, and Prince Edvard (fifth to the throne) had become a monk at the kingdom's Lutheran cathedral, but never revoked his title. He sat there with them today, his humble cloak a far cry from their more lavish attires.

Prince Tomas and Prince Christian were twins, mostly drunkards, unwed and up to no real value to the royal family, but were still over ten years Elsa's senior. The likelihood of her choosing to marry one of them was slim. Next, however, was Prince Isaak, who was a well-known Lothario of the Isle Kingdoms. He had successfully wooed, seduced and ruined countless princesses, duchesses, maidens and bar wenches alike.

Cold-hearted and calculating, Prince Sedak was the 9th born. Prone to jealousy and a ravenous temper, he was the one who had done most of Hans' torturing as he grew up. Deeply resentful of the youngest prince, it was he that initiated a two-year long coup that led to Hans being ignored and forgotten, finding humor and satisfaction at his expense. Those two years took an amazingly harsh psychological toll on Prince Hans, who withdrew but began doing desperate actions to get some form of attention from his brothers. And yet, it was the same twisted prince that Hans so desperately looked up, hoping to rid himself of any vulnerability and weakness by striving to be him, the way a captive is devoted to their captor.

The king's second set of twins were much more successful than the first, Prince Magnus and Prince Mathias. Magus was married to the military, Admiral of the Fleet of the Southern Isles Navy. Hans, too, was a Navy officer under his brother. He had earned his title of Admiral Prince Hans, which he had hoped would make his father proud of him, to no avail. Mathias, on the other hand, was a poet and lover, engaged to the fair Princess Agnus of the West Cannes, their wedding was due sometime in the spring.

Felix, the last born son of King Elias and Queen Astrid, was a handsome, strong and brave prince. In all the years, he'd been the king's quiet favorite, his last born son of his precious queen. Felix was the chosen suitor for Princess Elsa of Arendelle when they were quite young. Unfortunately, Felix found love with Queen Adelaide of the Kingdom of Romany, and spent his current days ruling beside her as king.

After Felix was born, the queen fell ill, and passed away. The devastation that the king and princes felt led to an irreparable emotional damage, a dark shadow cast upon them. Over time, they had forgotten her love and warmth, replaced with a bitterness deep down, a sadness that changed them. When the king's political advisor, Lars, suggested the king marry the young wealthy daughter of a duke from a neighboring kingdom, he reluctantly took his advice. With no plans to have any more children, they soon found they were with child once more. The king hoped for a princess, some kind of light to shine in on this darkened family, a vulnerable one for the princes to adore and protect.

But again, it was another prince. Prince Hans was born, and instead of love and protection, he received bitterness and rejection from all of his family.

All, that is, except for his loving mother, Ava.

While most of the boys took after their father, broad and dark haired, Hans bore a striking resemblance to his lovely mother. She was slimmer, more frail. Her green eyes were piercing and her auburn hair shined like amber in the sunlight. The good in Hans, the part that always tried to override the anger, the hurt and the betrayal of his own family, didn't always win out. He acted out frequently as a young child, out of frustration and neglect. He had found her to be his protector, the one he could go to when no one else was there. She would calm the king when she felt he was being to hard on the youngest prince. This, however, led to feelings of favoritism that just made the other princes even more resentful of the youngest prince.

When Hans was little, six years old, his mother held him in her arms one night when the tears wouldn't stop. Sedak, Mathius and Magnus, the troublesome trio, had spent the evening berating him for not being of pure, royal blood as they were.

"Your mother was practically a commoner," Sedak taunted. Hans cried to his mother, never feeling like they belonged.

"Let's just go," he begged. "We can go to another kingdom, we can live as other people." His mother lovingly stroked his hair, shushing the heartbroken prince.

"Hans, you must try to find a way to not let those words get to you, you have to remember your worth and your strength. Do not let the anger win, do not let them drive you away."

The queen passed away when Hans was only eight, and with her died the only ally, the only sense of love and belonging, that Hans would ever have.

"Who will it be?" Prince Galen asked again, knowing full well that there was only one real choice at this point. Only one son that was unmarried and willing. The King's dark, brooding eyes found Hans' at the end of the table, he recoiled under their intimidating stare.

"Hans will go to Arendelle to marry Princess Elsa."

The brothers mumbled under their breath in surprise, some louder than others, but none were more shocked than Hans himself.

"Me?" he asked, his eyes widening and his tone simply astonished. In all the years, Hans had never been picked for royal representation of the Southern Isles; the king would never trust him with such responsibility. Over time, Hans had successfully moved up the ranks of the Navy to Admiral, earned his highest honors in swordsmanship and fencing, and received awards in his equestrian pursuits. He was the utmost example of good breeding and poise, the only people in disagreement of this fact were his own family.

"Not alone, of course. Lars will be attending as well for guidance and guardianship." It was then that the men even noticed Lars in the back of the room, slinking and spying as usual. It seemed that he was always around, a serpent in the grass, studying and skulking in the dark corners.

"You mean to babysit," Sedak chuckled. Hans narrowed his eyes and folded his arms in defiance.

"To ensure that plans go accordingly, that we don't have any mishaps," King Elias clarified.

"It's Hans, of course there will be a mishap," Magnus said hotly. In the few moments he'd been in their attendance, his family had managed to make him feel two inches tall. The fact that his father would even volunteer him left him flabbergasted.

"I don't understand. Why me?" Hans asked to himself more than anyone else.

"Last resort," his father said, dismissingly waving his hand. Of course, it would never be that he was a good candidate or of any importance. There simply were no other options.

"What about us?" Tomas asked, gesturing to himself and Christian. The king rose his eyebrows in amusement.

"You think I would even consider that after the fiasco in The Netherlands years ago?" he asked rhetorically. "And besides, no young, beautiful princess is going to consider marrying an old drunkard. You're both far too old for her."

"She's beautiful?" Hans suddenly asked, realizing that there was a real possibility he would be marrying soon. Was he even ready for that? At the same time, and all at once, Hans had a flash of a life away from this one. King of another country, far away from the torment and aguish of his brothers and his father. Maybe this was the chance he'd been waiting for? Maybe this was his ticket to a better life.

Better yet, this was a chance to reinvent himself, be the person he was always meant to be. To make his mother proud, even though he knew that overcoming his anger and bitterness was going to be the hardest task of all. For as long as he could remember, the unpleasant demons in his head has always been there, beckoning him and calling him over to the dark side. So many times he'd envisioned inflicting pain of any kind upon them, but knowing deep down he was not capable of such atrociousness.

Because through the hate, there was a little boy inside of him that only wanted love and acceptance, for his big brothers to teach him how to fish and allow him to join them on excursions, to be proud of him. So many times, he'd watched from the window as they would play some kind of sport in the castle courtyard, uninvited.

"You'll make the teams uneven," one would lie, usually his late brother Andreas, who at least tried to spare his feelings.

"And we just don't want you to play," Sedak would finish, throwing any sentiment out the window.

"I'm arranging for your garments to be packed, you leave in the morning," King Elias announced. "And now, if you will all excuse us, Hans and I have some details to discuss."

Disappointed or simply uninterested, the princes stood and made their way out of the dining hall, their food untouched, aside from Tomas and Christian, who took their wine to go. The doors slammed, leaving King Elias and Prince Hans in the agonizing silence.

"I am giving you one chance to succeed with this, Hans," the king called out to him. "I want Arendelle, by any means necessary."

"Then send Sedak," Hans defied, "he is much better at doing your dirty work." The king smirked, amused by his son's obvious lack of confidence.

"Sedak is a sociopath," he responded casually.

"Oh, so you HAVE known all these years?"

"I am sending you, that is final," the King said, his voice stern.

"But, what do I _do_? How will I get her to love me when I cannot even get my own family to?" Hans wondered aloud, his brows furrowed into a frown. The king sighed, his gruffness beginning to dissipate. He stood, a head taller than Hans, and gently put his hand on his shoulder.

"I know that the years have been hard on you, Hans. I know that your brothers have been cruel; I, myself, have not been a perfect father to you," he said quietly, in a tone Hans had never heard his father take, especially not with him. "It is hard for me to trust you with such a task, but our family name is counting on you to marry into Arendelle. This is an opportunity for our kingdom, our name, to grow. And with it, you can escape the torment and the years of hurt from your brothers." In that moment, Hans felt a closeness he'd never felt to his father, as though perhaps he hadn't hated him all these years.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" Hans asked, suspicious and slightly unconvinced that his father was even capable of such kind words. "Who we married or where we ended up has never been that important to you before."

"That was before." The King brought a cup of wine to his lips, taking a sip and setting it back down gingerly. His shoulders slumped a bit, his eyes softening even more than before. "I was hard on you to push you, Hans. You were the runt of the group, you needed to toughen up," Elias rationalized. Hans knew this was his father trying to sound sympathetic or remorseful, although he wasn't particularly too good at it.

"So you let them treat me this way all these years to toughen me up?" Hans exclaimed, appalled. He took a step back, shaking his head slowly. "You LET it happen?"

"I said I was not a perfect man," Elias said, his voice and defensiveness beginning to raise.

"Then why, why now do you send me there with such a heavy responsibility-" Hans began to ask.

"I am dying," Elias finally shouted. Hans' mouth dropped open, then finally closed. He swallowed, hard. Although he'd never been close to his father, although he had deep, dark fantasies of standing over his father's deathbed and telling him exactly what his negligence and 'tough love' had done to him, he was still his father, and the only parent he had left.

"H-how-" Hans began to ask, Elias held a hand up to his son's mouth.

"Details are not important, Hans. I need to know that you will be okay somewhere, with a family, before I go. It is one of my dying wishes. Your brothers, they are strong. They will get along just fine without me. It is not them I worry about." He heaved a great sigh, and tried to reach Hans' averting eyes with his own. "I know I did not treat you well, my son. I know I was always busy, and that losing Queen Astrid changed my heart, in a way that not even your mother could heal, but I can't do anything to change that now. All I can do is trust you to find your way, to become the great man I know you are capable of."

Hans stood, his body frozen and his mind running a million miles per minute. He was flabbergasted at the notion that his father had always cared for him, but had been unable to ever show him, that he let his brothers treat him so badly for so long as a form of conditioning. Everything he had ever done in his life was for his family's approval, and now it all came down to this one task, yet he felt utterly hopeless about it.

"Go to Arendelle, be a different person, be the person you always wanted to be. Court her, marry her, and don't come back. Those are my orders." King Elias turned to walk back to his chair, Hans silently stirring by his seat.

"When do I leave?"

**Please review!**


	2. The Coronation

_Chapter 1:_

**Coronation Day**

The voyage was a dangerous one; currents due to the differentiating sea temperatures between the northern and southern hemispheres rocked the boat almost constantly, and summer storms across the ocean were particularly choppy this year.

However, during the four week long passage from the Southern Isles to Arendelle, Hans had spent a lot of time thinking, hoping that he could make his father and his family proud of him for once.

He tried to dig deep inside of himself, to find the part that was unjaded in an effort to put his best foot forward. His father's words echoed inside of his head.

_Be the person you have always wanted to be. _

He _wanted_ to. He wanted to reinvent himself. Even when he was little, the day he was clutched to his mother's chest sobbing about starting a new life, that had always been the grandest fantasy to him: to start anew.

He would often think about what kind of man he would have become if he'd had his mother for more than eight years, or if simply his brothers had been loving to him. Perhaps he wouldn't feel this competitive, agonizing need to prove himself and the insatiable drive for power. He really was two souls, split in two.

But this really was a chance at a new beginning, no matter what shortcomings he may have had pointed out his entire life. Where there was self-doubt he practiced confidence, where there was anger or resentment he practiced patience and love. He read, a lot, stories of romance and poetry, hoping that the words of encouragement and love would rub off on him.

It wasn't until he boarded the ship that he realized he had no idea what love was; he had never _been_ in love. He felt quite naïve to it all, since his different passions and constant lessons kept him quite busy in his youth, and the last thing he wanted was to seduce women at the same volume as some of his brothers.

He'd never thought a whole lot about love, not in the romantic sense. He assumed that eventually it would find him, but it was never really a priority. After all, he was only in his 23rd year, he had plenty of time to worry about such things, or so he thought.

And now that he'd really had a chance to think about it, Hans had never realized just how lonely his life really was. He wasn't sure why he'd never been interested in finding a young woman to spend his life with, but now that it was a real, plausible solution he could hardly contain his nerves. Merely a babe in the world, he was sent off to not only court a princess, but marry her and take stock in her kingdom.

The journey itself was quiet, also lonely, but that never troubled him before. Hans was used to being alone, used to silence. Lars had hardly left his bedroom chamber on the ship, which didn't bother him one iota since Lars had always slunk around in the background, mostly unnoticed.

Hans stood on the top deck of his ship, the sea air nipping at his face. It was refreshing, albeit slightly colder than he was expecting, but then again Arendelle was known for its cooler temperatures even in the summer. He wondered what Princess Elsa would be like, what she would look like. All he had was the memory of a painting that hung in their grand ballroom, one delivered to the king when he was quite young.

It was a family portrait of the King Agdar and Queen Idun of Arendelle, along with their two young daughters. It had been a gift; King Elias had collected portraits of all the royal families in neighboring kingdoms. He had always seen it as his own, royal photo album, used to show his high rank in society and diplomacy to foreign visitors.

It hung among the other portraits, nestled close to his favorite reading spot; a bench seat under a grand window that always seemed to have sunshine pouring through, even during the coldest months. The intricate, detailed painting was huge, making the king and queen life-sized with their two young daughters in tow. When Hans was quite little, and alone, he would go into that ballroom to be around 'people.' They weren't real, sure, but to a small child riddled with loneliness, they were the only friends he'd ever had. He would talk to them, and sometimes he pretended they would talk back. Although he never really knew the names to match these many faces, he saw them as his closest confidants. Days in that ballroom got him through tough times, especially when Ava had perished.

But he always recalled the Arendelle family portrait; the tall, proud king with kinder eyes than his own father's, the sweet, caring mother. He hated to admit it, but the two young girls had always been fascinating to him, so starkly different and yet similar at the same time. And although he knew that Elsa, the older daughter with eyes of ice and hair as white as snow, was the one he was going to wed, something about the littler one always called to his heart.

Her strawberry blonde hair looked soft, her eyes inviting, hopeful. She was younger than he, at least by a few years, but he couldn't help but be dawn to her time and time again.

As he grew, he needed the ballroom less and less. Lessons of all kinds would take up his time and he found that soon it would be months, sometimes even years that passed without even stepping foot in that room.

As the air whipped through his hair, Hans stared out at the horizon, Arendelle coming more and more into focus in the distance. The morning sun peaked over the mountains, making the sea blindly sparkling. After the long wait, he was finally here.

* * *

Hans stood tall, proudly adjusting his light grey Admiral's jacket and his burgundy ascot in the mirror. Although he had been at sea for nearly a month, he didn't look the part of a wayward sailor. His navy vest and tailored pants were crisp and neat, his boots still shined to perfection. His hair was longer than he was used to, but at the same time he liked they way it looked; like he was someone else. A new person. He pulled a white glove up over his hand.

"May I enter, your majesty?" Hans heard from the other side of his cabin door. He recognized the voice as Lars, who had finally come out of hiding to announce their arrival, although he'd known they were close for a few hours now.

"Enter," he called out, and heard the door unlatch.

"We are about to dock in Arendelle," Lars said. Hans turned to look at him, surprised to see a slight smile on his usually morose face. He was much older than Hans; lines painted his slightly tanned face. He had dark eyes, almost black and a pointed nose that stuck out farther than any other he'd seen. He had dark, graying hair and very snake-like features that always left him slightly uneasy. He was draped in a dark, purple cloak and a cane that had become his most used accessory was in his black-gloved left hand. He'd use the cane all of Hans' life, although he'd never thought to ask why.

"Thank you, Lars," Hans said politely.

"The coronation is in a few hours, we are arranging a meeting with Princess Elsa beforehand, so that you can-"

"Oh, Lars. Lighten up a bit. We just got here," Hans pleaded slightly. "I'll meet her, but first I want to get off this ship! Let Sitron stretch his legs a bit. I thought maybe we could explore the town." Although Hans hadn't been closed up in a castle all his life, he hadn't been out much either. He'd never explored other kingdoms, such invitations were always reserved for his older brothers. The farthest he made it was to sea while in the Navy, but as far as getting out to see the world he was still slightly virginal.

"Very well, Prince Hans." Lars swallowed back his distaste for the idea, pursing his thin lips. "I will arrange to have Sitron dressed for riding at once."

* * *

The feeling of land under Hans' boots was incredibly comforting, although he figured he'd be suffering from vertigo for the remainder of this visit. He had barely made it off the ship before a cart whirled by him, almost knocking him over.

The villagers were all in a tizzy, flowers and streamers strewn about all over the kingdom. People hustled past and spoke in excited whispers; the gates were to open soon. He didn't know much about Arendelle, but he did know that the princesses lived as shut-ins for most of their lives after the King and Queen had passed and that this was a huge event for the kingdom.

Hans was in the highest spirits he'd been in for longer than he could remember, free at last and alone in a way that made him feel empowered, not lonely. Not far from the docks was the market, which he gravitated to immediately. So many people, so many brightly colored decorations and tapestries; the buzz around him was intoxicating.

In the village square he saw a group of young maidens eyeing him from afar and whispering to one another. His cheeks pinkened when he realized they were talking about him, he could even hear the giddiness in their laughter. He rose a gloved and to them and waved.

"Hello, ladies," he called out politely, their laughter erupting into almost squeals. The interaction brought an instant smile to his face as he realized he was free. THIS was the person he wanted to be.

Lars sent a guard to him with Sitron, who neighed excitedly at his presence.

"Sitron!" Hans yelled out, excited to see his favorite companion as well. He pulled at Sitron's harness and brought his face down towards his, petting his nose gently. "Good to see you too, buddy. Wanna go for a ride?"

The terrain of Arendelle was nothing like the Southern Isles; it was rocky and slightly treacherous and Sitron was not particularly used to it. The views, however, were astonishing. Even in the summer Hans could see snowcapped mountains off in the distance and evergreens cloaked the land in their dark, green musk.

It was easy to be impressed with the beauty of Arendelle, but the people were another story. All the people he passed would bow as he rode by, taken aback by the handsome, young prince. They showed him more respect and gratitude in those first few hours of arriving than he had ever gotten back at home, although he tried hard not to think about it. It was easy for him to feel a sense of belonging here, which was something he didn't even realize he longed for so deeply. The mere notion that this could be his home made him overcome with a feeling inside his belly that he couldn't quite pinpoint. Or maybe that was just the vertigo.

He rode quickly as he heard bells in the distance; the coronation would be starting soon. Hans had been so busy exploring the town and the people that he had completely forgotten about the time.

"Yah!" he yelled out to Sitron, who picked up speed just in time to collide with something, or better yet someone, on the dock. Hans watched in horror as a young woman flew backwards and landed in the back of a nearby rowboat, nearly tipping it over into the cold bay. Thinking fast and with one swift movement, Hans pulled on the reign tightly, prompting Sitron to steady the boat on the dock and keep her from falling.

"Hey!" he heard her yell out in surprise.

"I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?" he asked quickly, fearing that perhaps in his first hours in Arendelle he might inadvertently kill someone. He assumed this was NOT the best way to make a first impression. His eyes met hers, and something struck him instantly: the familiarity. It was as if they'd met before but he wasn't quite sure where. Her big, emerald eyes fixated on his and widened, a silly smile spreading across her lips.

"Hey. I-ya, no. No. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" He coaxed.

"Yeah I just wasn't looking where I was going. But I'm okay."

Hans smirked to himself and got down off the horse, nearing her and climbing into the boat to help her out of her current predicament. Something about her cute, flustered awkwardness made him wonder if this was a common occurrence for her, getting in a bind.

"I'm great, actually," she assured.

"Oh, thank goodness," he said, a slight chuckle in his voice. He reached his hand down, and she gladly took it, their eyes meeting. Something about the way she looked into his eyes made his breath hitch, he froze for a split second. He couldn't deny the instant chemistry, so much so he realized he'd completely forgotten his manners. He cleared his throat and took a bow.

"Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," he introduced. Usually when he introduced himself to lovely women they all had a similar awestruck reaction, but this one seemed relatively unphased. She took a small curtsey.

"Princess Anna of Arendelle," she reciprocated. Hans was instantly caught off guard, embarrassed by his casualness in this situation.

"P-Princess?" he repeated, surprised. He instantly fell to one knee, bowing more dramatically than before. "My Lady." Taking a cue from his rider, Sitron raised his hoof in honor of the princess, only to send the two of them nearly toppling into the bay, together this time, Hans falling with all of his weight onto the princess.

"Hi again," Anna said, seemingly trying to defuse the embarrassing situation they'd both found themselves in. Realizing his mistake, Sitron instantly slammed his foot down, destabilizing the boat, causing them back to topple backwards, this time her on top of him.

"Oh boy," Hans exclaimed, the air almost knocked right out of him. They lingered a moment, Anna beginning to blush nervously.

"Ha. This is awkward. Not you're awkward, but just because we're- - I'm awkward, you're gorgeous," she rambled as they got back to their feet. He couldn't help but chuckle under his breath at her quirkiness. Her eyes grew three sizes as she realized what she'd just said to him. "Wait. What?"

"I want to formally apologize for hitting the Princess of Arendelle with my horse…and every moment after," he said casually, hoping to ease her nervousness. It didn't seem to help, she remained bashful and flustered under his intense stare. She tucked some lose hair behind her ear and shrugged.

"No, no-no. It's fine. I'm not THAT princess. I mean, if you'd hit my sister Elsa that would be - - Yeesh! 'Cause, you know…" her words trailed as she walked by him, almost re-running into Sitron again. She sweetly patted his nose, and Hans made the observation that she had the attention span of a flea. "Hello," she greeted the horse, safely back on the dock. She turned to him again, their eyes locking once more. "But, luck you. It was just me."

"Just you," Hans repeated, suddenly realizing where he'd seen her before. In the flesh, not painted upon canvass, was the beautiful, doe-eyed little girl he'd told all his secrets to growing up. She was older now, of course, but it was undoubtedly her. It was his turn to be simply awestruck at her lines and curves, painted more brilliantly in real life than he could have ever imagined growing up.

_ Diiiing, diiiing, diiiing_

"The bells. The coronation! I-I-I…I better go! I have to.. I better go!" she said frantically, outlining his own thoughts as well. He watched her begin to run off, relieved when she turned back around to see him one more time. "Bye," she waved, the bashful smile returning to her face. He smiled and waved back.

Sitron lifted his hoof once more, this time forgetting to secure it, sending Hans himself into the freezing cold bay water. Although he knew he would most likely be late for the coronation at this point, he didn't particularly care. He had to get dressed and ready to meet Princess Elsa soon…although that wasn't the princess he wanted to get to know at all.

* * *

The coronation was boring, as were most royal traditions. He realized quickly that he was glad he'd never been chosen to attend such events in the past, they were less than thrilling. Sandwiched between other members of royalty and a personal pillow for a large, older man, Hans was oddly at peace however. He was happy he'd made it to the ceremony just in time, having had to stop off and change from his heavy, soaked attire. Luckily, however, his clothes and belongings had been moved to his suite in the castle, where many of the most honored guests were staying as well.

Elsa was, of course, beautiful. But in the moments before the ceremony as she greeted everyone, there was something so cold and closed off about her. He didn't feel the electricity, the instant connection with her, like he did with Anna.

_Anna_.

Sweet, naïve, silly Anna. He couldn't exactly figure out how he felt about the whole plan anymore. It was easy to see from the get-go that Elsa was going to be a tough nut to crack, and at this point he wasn't even entirely sure that he wanted to, anymore.

The last few weeks he had prepared everything; how he would woo her, what he would say, how it would all go down. The thing about life is that it doesn't always go according to a plan, and although Elsa had freewill to marry whomever she wanted, he had very little faith she was even open to the idea of ANYONE courting her, let alone the 13th born of a long line of jerks.

Anna peeked over at him, smiling happily to see him in the pew. He smiled back, giving her a small wave. The look in her eye was reassuring. Did it really matter which of the two princesses he married? Didn't his father just want him to find happiness?

Hans shook the thoughts out of his head quickly; he was getting carried away. He didn't even KNOW them. And it wasn't about love, none of this was. It was about sticking to the plan. If love grew from that, it would just be icing on the cake. In royalty, it was not uncommon for people who hardly knew each other to marry, it would grow to mutual respect and in the best cases love would follow.

Elsa stood at the front of the chapel, her scepter and orb in hand, while the Bishop chanted in Norse. The coronation was finally nearing the end, and Hans let out a sigh of relieve that he could soon un-pry the large snorer from his aching shoulder.

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle," the Bishop announced.

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle," the congregation repeated.

They all stood and waited for the Queen, Princess Anna and the Bishop to file out before exiting afterward. Hans shook his neighbor awake who awoke with a startle, before standing and stretching his cramped arm.

"What a snooze-fest, eh Lars?" Hans joked lightly, but Lars looked less than amused.

"You missed your meeting with Queen Elsa before the coronation. You barely made it in time," Lars scolded. Hans scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I told you I-"

"I am beginning to think you are not taking your father's orders seriously. There were numerous suitors lined up to greet her, but The Southern Isles was notably missing. How do you think that makes us look, Hans?" Lars was fuming. Hans shrunk under Lars' angry chagrin; he hadn't thought about how his absence would look to the Queen or her officials. "This is exactly what your father was afraid of," Lars grumbled under his breath. Hans didn't wait around to hear any more, he'd had enough. He turned on a heel and hurriedly walked to his private bedroom chamber. He had a party to get ready for.

**A/N**

** This story follow's Hans' POV during the events of the movie and then beyond. Hope you're enjoying and please leave a review!**


	3. Love Is An Open Door

**Chapter 2:**

_Love is an Open Door_

Hans was trying to forget what Lars had said earlier, although it was hard to shake the words out of his head. Less than one amazing day in Arendelle and he was already being reminded of just what he was running away from. He clenched his fists and tried to keep his composure as he dressed for the party, pacing around his room. How could he have dropped the ball already? How could he have been deterred from his mission so quickly?

_I really am a failure, _he thought to himself.

Luckily, Lars had left him alone with his thoughts, which gave him time to find some kind of composure. He stared at his reflection in the mirror: he didn't recognize himself, which he didn't mind. He wanted to be someone else, that's all he'd ever hoped for. His green eyes were brighter, his face lightly sprinkled with freckles, a gift from his mother. He needed to get his head in the game, he needed to go to Elsa and ask her to dance, get to know her and forget about the strawberry blonde with gem-toned eyes and a green dress.

The ball itself was as lavish as he imagined it would be; tapestries, gold and music filling the room with the aroma of chocolate and decadence. Everyone seemed to be having a grand time, perhaps slightly warm from the free-flowing wine and gourmet food. He stood alone, no one really engaged him in conversation aside from idle small-talk and introductions. Lars still seemed sore, standing in the back of the room and watching as usual, his purple cloak exchanged for a white and gold one. Now that he'd had the time to calm down, he remembered that Lars really was just trying to do his job. He did it well, otherwise he wouldn't have been his father's most trusted confidant for the last 30 years.

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle!" they announced proudly. Hans clapped with the crowd, picking up a flute of champagne as a server walked by. He took a big swig of it, liquid courage, and started towards the front of the room to join an assembly line of people anxious to greet her.

"Princess Anna of Arendelle!" they announced next. Hesitantly and ever-so-awkwardly, Anna joined her regal-looking sister near the thrown. Hans stopped, eying them intently; they talked quietly, shared a moment. He began to forge towards them again when he was abruptly cut off by a waif-like, dwarfish man in a bad toupee. Hans ran a frustrated hand through his hair; he'd have to wait. He then watched in slightly amused horror as the man led a reluctant Anna to the dance floor. Hans gave up, retiring to the back of the room to rejoin Lars.

Lars seemed to have calmed down as well, clutching a goblet of red wine in his long, pale fingers.

"Are you enjoying yourself this evening, your majesty?" Lars asked, although Hans could sense a lack of sincerity in his voice.

"As well as expected," Hans responded. "Those girls are hard to get to," he observed.

"That is why we set up the meeting," Lars said curtly, but grinned anyway. "You know, the one in which you did not attend?" Hans ignored the jab and shook his head.

"I'm not sure what to do." The men's eyes went to Elsa, who was standing like a statue in the front of the room, talking to no one. "Why is she like that? Has she always been this way?" Hans asked, slightly annoyed at his difficult task at hand. "Is it because she lost her parents?"

"It happened long before that. No one really knows. She's always been a timid girl," Lars divulged. Hans sighed loudly. "I am sure you will have time to engage with her at the luncheon scheduled tomorrow afternoon; we are supposed to discuss trade with her there, you remember correct?" Lars asked. Hans nodded again.

"Right, right. I got it."

"Just enjoy yourself, it doesn't look like the Queen is up for socializing much this evening."

With Lars' blessing, Hans began back out into the crowd, picking up another glass of champagne. He was never really one to drink, but his nerves had him slightly on edge and he was trying his best to ease his worries. He smiled and waved to the party guests, making his way across the crowd when he saw something fast, a flurry of green and gold, fly by him. Out of reflex, he threw his hand out to catch it, only to face a blushing and nervous Anna. He couldn't help but smile at her, yet again tripping over herself.

"Glad I caught you," he uttered, pleased to realize just how smooth he sounded.

"Hans!" she exclaimed happily. Hans set his drink down, pulling her up to his chest. It was in that moment that he realized that the music was playing, impulsively pulling her into a waltz.

She was actually surprisingly graceful, something he didn't expect at all from the times he'd seen her. In that moment, Hans felt content; happy even. She stared at him with stars in her eyes, totally trusting and infatuated, like he was special. Like he could do anything.

She didn't know his past or his life before her; all she knew was a handsome, charming prince was holding her and twirling her around a room full of people. And she let him.

_It's just one dance_, he said to himself. _I can meet Elsa tomorrow. This doesn't have to mean anything._

Without paying attention, Anna flung her arm out, accidentally smacking a server as he walked by. The impact caused a chain reaction. Glasses from the waiter's tray went tumbling down, crashing onto the floor, causing a scene. Anna quickly brought her hands to her mouth, mortified at her seemingly-constant clumsiness.

"You really _are_ awkward, aren't you?" he laughed lightly, remembering her words at the boat earlier that day. "Wanna get outta here?" he suggested quickly.

"Yup!" she nodded enthusiastically, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the party and to an empty sitting room. Hans continued to chuckle, happy to be out and away from the crowd. After a brief silence, Anna turned to face him. She forced a nervous smile, Hans adjusted his white jacket and smoothed his hair. They glanced out towards the party in time to see a woman slip on the spilled beverages on the floor, a crowd starting to circle around her.

"Wow," he breathed, astonished at what a mess she'd made. "I hope she's okay…"

"Um. Yeah. I'm really sorry about that," she stammered.

"It's fine," he reassured.

"No, it's like, _REALLY_ not fine. I am so emb-" Hans cut her off, gently putting his hands on her shoulders. He looked into her eyes and smiled warmly.

"No, it's like, REALLY fine."

"Oh," she smiled, bigger this time, her eyes falling down and over to his hands resting on her shoulders. She seemed to be at ease under her hands, finally calming down. Hans walked over to a serving tray, bringing her back a glass of champagne along with one for himself.

"Here, this will help," he said, extending the glass towards her.

"I- uh. I dunno. I don't really drink. I mean…I haven't ever drank," she explained, pointing to the glass sheepishly.

"I guess it's time you try something new," he suggested, nudging it at her again. She giggled a bit, taking the glass. Without much thought, she shrugged her shoulders and brought the glass to her lips, taking a small sip. She mused for a second, her face registering the taste.

"Hmm it's…bubbly," she described.

"It's champagne, it's suppo-" Hans' words trailed off as he watched her tip the whole glass back and drink it all. "Well. Ok. Yeah, that's one way to do it."

"I like it," she nodded, her eyes large and excited. "Like, I could drink a whole bunch of this stuff!"

"Whoa, now. Simmer down. I think one whole glass in less than ten seconds is plenty for now," he laughed. "For an amateur, at least." He took the glass from her and set it down on a nearby table, turning to look at her again. She wrinkled her nose and laughed when their eyes met again, beginning to fan herself with her hand.

"Wow, it's hot in here. Is it hot in here or is it just me?" she spoke quickly.

"It's just you," he smirked, instantly noting the double meaning behind the words. "So, this is your palace, huh?" Hans said, attempting to change the subject. He glanced around, noting the impeccable taste. "What a dump," he teased.

"Hey!" she giggled, hitting him lightly on the arm. "It's not much, but it's home," she joked back.

"Lots of space for just the two of you."

"Well, I mean, it wasn't just us." She began to fidget with her hands, unable to ever stay still. "There were the maids and the butlers of course. Not to mention there were always foreign dignitaries in and out, Kai, the elders than had control until Elsa was of age."

"I bet you two have wonderful memories running around this place," Hans wondered aloud. Anna's face suddenly changed from bright and cheery to somber, leaving Hans curious if he'd said something wrong. "What? What is it?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Anna said, waving her hand. "I mean, Elsa and I- we're-" she paused, gnawing on her lip, trying to find the right words. "We aren't that close, is all. Not anymore, at least. She didn't spend much time out of her room growing up. Like… Ever."

"Ever?" Hans asked in disbelief. Anna nodded weakly.

"I mean, I still entertained myself! I had a lot of fun. I often had the whole parlor to myself to slide…" she said excitedly, so much so that her arm sprang out and smacked Hans right in the face.

"Ouch!" he laughed, rubbing his face. She instantly brought her arms up to him.

"Oh my goodness, are you alright? I am so-"

"Sorry? Yeah. I know," he finished.

"I think that champagne went right to my head. Would you…" she paused, a wry smile crossing her face, "like to take a walk?"

The two of them entered the courtyard, Hans made an instant note of how perfectly lit up the sky was between the stars, the lights from the village and the moon. He also couldn't help but notice just how lovely Anna looked in the moonlight, but he tried to shake that thought out of his head as soon as it entered.

They talked. Well, mostly Anna talked. A lot. Hans didn't mind though, the less she knew about him the better, and she seemed to have no problem telling him all the stories of her childhood, what had happened to her parents, how Elsa never left her room. He figured getting insight on Elsa was a good idea, but the more Anna described her the more he realized that there was almost no way he was going to be able to penetrate her emotional armor. He was happy, however, to see such lightness in Anna. It was refreshing to see someone who had been the product of such tragedy, and to go through most of it completely alone, was such a normal, functioning, even happy human being.

"…And so how long have you been in the Navy?" she asked him.

"About 5 years so far, but I took fencing and horseback riding since I was a child so I was used to the discipline."

"…And your physique helps I'm sure, too," she noted aloud. Hans rose his eyebrows, and Anna looked slightly mortified for saying it.

"What can I say? You're right. I've got an amazing body," he joked, Anna laughed. He gently nudged her with his arm, she gently nudged him back.

_No. No. NO NO NO_.

This is not the plan. This isn't how this is supposed to happen.

_I need you to take Arendelle by any means necessary. _

His fathers words loudly repeated in his head, over and over again. And yet, in this same conversation King Elias told him that he just wanted him to be happy and loved somewhere. _THIS_ couldn't be love. A couple of fleeting hours with a beautiful girl that made him laugh and puzzled him with her quirky habits and clumsiness couldn't possibly be love.

_Could it?_

He didn't know anything ABOUT love. For all he knew it was the champagne making his heart beat faster and his stomach flutter. Why did it have to be Elsa? Why couldn't the first in line for Arendelle be THIS princess? And more importantly, did it really even matter?

YES IT MATTERED.

_You're a failure. They are all expecting you to fail. _The voice that had been quieted for most of his voyage returned to his head, and with a vengeance. _They knew you couldn't do it, they should have sent another brother. A smarter brother. A better brother._

Hans desperately tried to ignore the painfully aggressive self-doubt plaguing him while he walked beside her; luckily she didn't seem to notice his internal struggle, just seemed to ramble off more about her life and her dreams, her aspirations.

"I used to want to be a dancer," she was saying. He tried to focus back in on the conversation. "But, I am not sure if you know this, I am not that graceful all the time." Hans stared at her, noticing a long, thick chunk of white in her hair that he'd never noticed before this point.

"What's this?" he asked, gesturing towards it. Anna recoiled a bit, ashamedly patting it.

"I was born with it, although I dreamt I was kissed by a troll," she smiled, embarrassedly.

"I like it," Hans uttered. It wasn't until after he said it that he realized that he really did like it. He liked everything about her.

"Have you ever had krumkake before?" Anna suddenly asked, snapping Hans back to reality. Attention span of a flea, he remembered.

"I can't say I have," he replied.

"Come on! You don't know what you're missing!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and leading him back to the party. She hurried over to the desert table and began filling a large, gold-plated dish with as many sweets as she could. Hans stared at her in disbelief.

"You really like sweets, huh?" he asked. She glanced over at him, her cheeks full of some sort of cake. She nodded happily as she continued to sift through the desert table. "Me too," he laughed, helping her put a few more delicacies on the plate. The two of them hurried off, retiring to a quiet balcony.

Once outside, Anna sat the tray down between them and began grazing it, unsure where to begin. Hans shook his head.

"You really wiped that table out, didn't you?"

"I can never decide what I want, so I just take it all."

"This is literally enough to feed my entire family, and I have twelve older brothers!" he laughed. Anna picked up a rolled desert with whipped cream in the middle and brought it up to his face.

"Here, eat this. This is krumkake, you have to eat the whole thing all at once," she instructed.

"Well, aren't you the expert," he said rhetorically, taking the desert from her waiting hand. "Just like this? The whole thing?"

"Yeah! The whole thing! You got it!" she said, cheering him on. He did as he was instructed, not at all disappointed with the deliciousness she'd promised. She laughed at him struggling the eat it, then refocused. "Okay, wait, wait. So you have HOW many brothers?" she asked, surprised.

"Twelve older brothers. Three of them pretended I was invisible…literally…for two years!" He tried his hardest to say this particularly hurtful sentence as lightly as possible, and it seemed to work. Her eyes saddened, sympathy painting her face.

"That's horrible," she said sadly.

"It's what brothers do." He almost believed it.

"…And sisters," she divulged. Hans couldn't help but relate to the sadness in her eyes as she spoke. "Elsa and I were really close when we were little. But then, one day, she just shut me out, and I never knew why…" Hans reached for her hand; he didn't think about it before he did, it just seemed like the right thing to do. He wanted to touch her, to relate to her. This was the first time in his whole life that he realized that someone out there knew his pain, related to him on this level. Elsa may not have been cruel like his family, but the feeling of being alone with no one to turn to or talk to was so unbelievably damaging.

"I would never shut you out," he said, the words spilling out before he had a chance to stop them. Her eyes found his again, softer and hopeful, she smiled meekly, a little desperation in her voice.

"Can I just…say something crazy?"

"I love crazy," he said happily.

She went on to tell him about how lonely her life had been and how much their interaction had meant to her over the course of the last couple hours. It was easy to get swept up in the moment. For once in both of their lives, someone was there to offer a hand and a sympathetic shoulder, to say "I get it. I understand."

To say that they got carried away was an understatement. They spent the rest of the evening talking, laughing, even singing. They danced, they drank more champagne and ate more deserts. They narrowly escaped guards as they roamed the halls of the castle. They acted like children at play, something they never particularly got in their youth.

Hans was falling in love, or at least, what he thought was love. It was so quick and so hard that he didn't even realize when it happened. The plan, Elsa, Lars, his father and his family, all of that was the last thing on his mind when he was with her.

When Hans was with Anna, he wasn't an Admiral. He wasn't a swordsman, a prince, a royal representative. He wasn't a failure. He was just… Hans. The person he wanted to be.

And wasn't that the real plan, wasn't that all his father wanted from him?

Their last stop of the evening was a cliff side, by a waterfall. He was drunk on their newfound infatuation. He wrapped his long arms around her, holding her close and taking in her scent. He turned around in the excitement of it all and uttered,

"Can I say something crazy…? Will you marry me?" Anna's eyes widened, her smile bright and beaming.

"Can I just say something even crazier?" she asked. Hans nodded. "Yes!"

And in that moment, Hans was happier than he'd ever been. He wasn't thinking about consequences. He had his ticket out of his miserable life, whether he would be king or not. But deep in the pit of his stomach he knew Lars was not going to be happy about this…


	4. The Substitute King

**Chapter 3:**

_The Substitute King_

Hans was _beaming_.

He felt like the luckiest man in the world, being dragged through the party by Anna. The crowd was fanning out, starting to dissipate as the night started approaching the morning hours. They trudged through, pushing their way around weary guests.

He couldn't believe his luck; not only had he met a beautiful, funny, interesting (albeit, naïve) princess, but she was willing to marry him _on the spot_. Sure, maybe it veered off from the original plan, but hypothetically-speaking, if anything were to happen to the queen, it was most certainly Anna who would take the throne. And who would reign right beside her? Why, her handsome, courageous husband, of course.

Success was so close, he could almost taste it. The idea left him absolutely giddy. Although he wasn't quite sure what it was, exactly, that he felt for Princess Anna, he was almost positive that with some time and cultivation, he really _could_ love her. This was close enough for now.

Together, they spotted Elsa in the crowd, talking to some patrons, presumably thanking them for their attendance.

"Elsa!" Anna yelled out, before toning herself down. She curtsied awkwardly. "I mean…Queen. Me again. Um. May I present Prince Hans of the Southern Isles." Hans took that as his cue to bow in front of the beautiful, reserved queen.

"Your majesty," he greeted, politely. Elsa curtsied back. Anna could hardly contain herself, she was bursting at the seams.

"We would like-" she paused, so Hans continued for her.

"Your blessing-"

"…of-" she giggled, the suspense growing.

"Our marriage!" they finally blurted in unison, embracing one another. They watched as Elsa's face fell.

"Marriage…?" she asked, her tone falling flat.

"Yes!" Anna exclaimed, excitedly.

"I'm sorry, I'm confused." Hans wasn't liking the look in her eyes, but he figured all she needed was a little convincing; after all, they'd only just met. It was normal for her to be hesitant. But she wasn't there with them tonight, she didn't know the chemistry or the connection they'd made so quickly. If she'd been there with them the whole night, she would understand.

"Well, we haven't worked out all the details ourselves. We'll need a few days to plan the ceremony. Of course, we'll have soup, roast, ice cream and then…" she paused, an epiphany coming to her. "Wait. Would we live here?" she bounced up and down excitedly.

"Aaaaaabsolutely!" Hans agreed; that was _definitely_ part of the plan. Why would he take her back to the Southern Isles when they could just stay here in Arendelle? A place where no one knew him, a place where he was respected and welcomed with such open arms. He could hardly believe how perfectly this was going.

"Oh! We can invite all twelve of your brothers to stay with us-" she said to Hans happily, ignoring Elsa's quiet protests. "Of course we have the room, I don't know. Some of them must-"

"Wait! Slow down," Elsa said sternly, finally quieting Anna's rambling. "No one's brothers are staying here. No one is getting married." The words stung, Hans suddenly felt very foolish standing there in front of the young queen's icy gaze; something about the rejection resonated with him quickly, and he was increasingly aware of all of the eyes upon them, beginning to create a scene. No eyes, however, burned into them more than those of Lars, glowering in the back corner as per usual. He swallowed hard; let out a nervous laugh.

"Wait, what?" Anna asked, her voice crushed. Elsa seemed to notice the crowd as well, lowering her head and voice towards Anna.

"May I talk to you please? Alone?" she requested quietly. Anna stepped away from her sister, defiantly taking Hans' arm in hers.

"No," she said, hurt but strong. "Whatever you have to say y-you can say to both of us." Elsa's eyes narrowed, her head tall once more.

"Fine. You can't marry a man you just met." Hans felt his stomach drop. It was silly of him to assume this could go off without a hitch. The worst part was that Elsa was right. The self-doubt instantly came flooding back to Hans. The women continued their argument, and all Hans could do was silently panic inside.

_ His_ plan was quickly unraveling, and his father's plan was ruined. There was no way he would be marrying _either_ woman at this point, especially now that Elsa wouldn't bless the marriage. Word of his failure was sure to reach his father in no time. if only he hadn't acted so hastily, if only he had waited a few days, met the queen and cultivated the relationship instead of letting his infatuation get the better of him.

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

The girls bickered more and Hans tired to intercede, only to be shot down by a cold and definite Elsa. He worried, not just about himself but about Anna as well. She was braver than usual; he assumed the champagne and adrenaline was helping her say things she would have normally kept inside. It wasn't long before she held Elsa's glove in her hand, begging her for some kind of reaction other than shutting her out.

"When I said to enjoy yourself, this is hardly what I meant," Lars' voice spat near his ear, fuming. He hadn't even noticed Lars slink up beside him. He ignored him completely, moving forward after Anna. He would deal with Lars later.

Without knowing exactly what was being said between the sisters at this point, Hans was taken aback by a giant, icy blast across the room. Patrons gasped in shock, himself included. It took a moment to process what was happening, and that the giant, pointed shards of ice that now blanketed the ballroom floor had come from Elsa uncloaked hand.

"Sorcery!" the waif-ish, old Duke exclaimed, putting a name on the mystical spectacle they'd all just witnessed. Hans didn't know what exactly it was, his sole interest now was making sure Anna was okay. Elsa ran out of the large, oak doors of the ballroom and into the night, and Hans ran to Anna's side.

"A-are you hurt?" he asked, genuinely concerned as he pressed his hand to her cheek and examined her for injuries. Her eyes never met his as she watched after Elsa, struggling to go after her, but Hans held her back.

"I have to go to her, let me go to her!" she said, her eyes brimming with tears. "She _needs_ me!"

"Not until you tell me if you're hurt," Hans demanded. She turned to him, her eyebrows low and sad, confused.

"N-no," she choked out, suddenly pulling him close to her in a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her, lowering his head to hers. In that moment he realized he was physically closer to her than he'd been all night.

"What are you going to do?"

"I-I…" she paused, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. "I need to go to her," she said, looking up at him, her blue eyes pleading. Hans simply nodded, before following her out into the courtyard.

Anna called after Elsa, running at full speed. Even with all of Hans' training, it was hard to keep up with the agile girls. He watched in awe as Elsa began to freeze the bay, as well as the village, making a run for it across the fjord. He ran to Anna's side as he watched her attempt to run after her across the ice, only to slip and fall. There was no way they would be able to catch up to Elsa to stop her on the slick ice. Hans helped a defeated Anna up and they turned back, hurrying towards the guards and patrons that continued to stand, bewildered and frightened.

"Are you alright?" Hans asked again. It was the only thing he could really think to say, as he, too, was in shock over the events that had transpired in only a matter of moments.

"No," she finally said, a sob in her voice.

"Did you know?" he asked.

"No."

How could she not know that Elsa had such a great power within her? Hans took a deep breath, trying to piece together what he'd just witnessed. His moment of clarity wasn't to come, however, as they spotted the Duke trying to arrange a party to go after the queen.

"Wait, no!" Anna yelled out to him. The Duke jumped behind his men.

"YOU! Is there sorcery in _you_, too? Are you a monster, too?"

"No-no," Anna said, fear in her voice. Hans could only imagine what the Duke was going to do with this information, the treachery and the witch hunt that would ensure. Surely Anna would be under investigation for what she knew, if anything at all. And now that he thought about it, what IF Anna had some kind of untapped power inside of her she had not realized yet? He didn't really know her. But that didn't matter. He felt it his duty to protect her. "I'm completely ordinary."

"That's right, she is…" But she wasn't. She was special. Just not ice-throwing, village-freezing special. He glanced down at her lovingly. "I-in the best way."

"…And my sister's not a Monster."

"She nearly killed me!" the Duke yelled dramatically. Hans could feel his patience for this man running increasingly thinner and thinner.

"You slipped on ice," he corrected.

"HER ice," the Duke clarified.

"It was an accident. She was scared. She didn't mean it. She didn't mean any of this…." Anna finally interceded. "Tonight was my fault." Hans couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as well. Had he not been there, had he not proposed like an idiot, this wouldn't have happened. "I pushed her. So I'm the one that needs to go after her."

"What?" Hans protested.

"Bring me my horse, please!" Anna commanded. Hans grabbed her shoulders and turned her to him.

"Anna! No! It's too dangerous!" Hans objected. He instantly realized just how naïve Anna really was, wanting to go after her sister. Here was a princess that had never really experienced anything beyond castle walls wanting to trek through the snow to find her sister.

"Elsa's not dangerous!" Anna insisted, heatedly. "I'll bring her back, and I'll make this right," she said to him, her eyes full of tears. He wanted to make it better for her, he wanted to tell her that this wasn't her fault, he wanted to fetch Sitron and go with her, they'd find her together. The Royal Handler approached them with her cloak and horse.

"I'm coming with you,' he demanded.

"No," she said firmly. "I need you here to take care of Arendelle."

What? Just like that? She and the queen were gone and it was up to him to rule their kingdom in their absence? In his life, his father never even trusted him to provide royal representation of the Southern Isles, let alone rule a kingdom, even if temporarily. The thought of ruling Arendelle fascinated and excited him. Without much thought, he assured her.

"On my honor," he promised. Anna threw on her cloak and hopped onto her horse.

"I leave Prince Hans in charge," she announced, much to the Duke's dismay. Something about that sentence fed a part of Hans he didn't even know was hungry. Although he knew he should go with her, insist on leaving the kingdom in the capable and trusting hands of the dignitaries that had ruled on behalf of the queen for the last three years, he was elated at the chance to prove himself. And she was giving him that chance. He held onto her for a moment longer.

"Are you sure you can trust her? I don't want you getting hurt."

"She's my sister. She would never hurt me," Hans watched her snap the reins and ride off into the snow-covered streets of Arendelle. He watched helplessly, knowing that anything that happened to her from this point forward was simply beyond his control, and it made his heart ache in his chest.

_ She's my sister, she would never hurt me._

But Hans, of all people, knew just how hurtful siblings could really be. And that thought alone terrified him. Watching her ride away, Hans instantly felt regret for letting her go alone. There were plenty of guards, why would she go alone?

"Now what are we supposed to do, freeze to death?!" the Duke spat angrily. Hans turned to face the crowd, all of their dependence was now on him. He felt his hands shake as he realized just how much responsibility now rested on his (questionably) able shoulders.

"What do we do?" a townsperson cried out.

"We aren't prepared for this cold!"

"Our crops will die! We will starve!"

"…our children will freeze!"

The anguish began to grow increasingly desperate. Hans hurried to the frozen fountain, standing upon the concrete wall to rise above their heads, even if only by a few feet.

"Citizens!" he yelled out. They turned to him, anxiously awaiting instructions. He swallowed, hard. They needed a leader right now, so that was what he was going to be. "We mustn't panic! We will do what we can to endure this hardship! We will be distributing cloaks and blankets from the castle," he yelled towards the wait staff, who hurried inside to begin rummaging through linen closets and storages. "We must do what we can to keep warm; all able men need to be helping get firewood from the nearby woods, and all salvageable foods from the crops and gardens need to be harvested for consumption and storage." He looked among their worried faces. "We need to work together, depend on one another! We will get through this, I assure you."

Hans hopped down from the wall, hurrying over to one of his men.

"Get me Sitron," he demanded. He was going after her, he never should have let her go alone.

"Absolutely _not_!" he heard Lars' angry voice call out. He turned to him.

"I need to help Anna," he insisted.

"You have done _enough_!" Lars growled. Hans turned his back on him and began to put on his riding cloak. Lars reached for his shoulder and turned him around. "One more move and I will send word to your father about just how much damage you have done!" Hans shrunk under his dark and angry stare. "Get inside of your bedroom chamber at once so we can discuss just what you were thinking!"

Sent to his room like an adolescent. Hans couldn't believe this was happening, how had everything gone so awry in a matter of one day?

_ You're a failure_.

He paced the room, anxiously looking out the window. The snow continued to dump down upon the ill-prepared village in flurries. He worried, not just for himself and Anna, whom he still couldn't believe was braving this treacherous weather, but for the people of Arendelle as well. He was all nerves, anxiously awaiting Lars to hear just how much he'd screwed this up. There was so much he needed to do, he felt torn into a million pieces. He needed to be here, ruling Arendelle in the Queen's absence. He needed to be out among the people, handing out cloaks and food. He needed to be with Anna, making sure she wasn't freezing to death or… he couldn't even imagine what kind of trouble she could be in already.

The loud bang from Lars barging into the room made him jump. He stood, quickly, prepared for the sound ear-bashing he was to receive.

"Lars, I-"

"What were you thinking?" Lars asked, his tone more even than Hans was expecting.

"I-I don't know-" Hans began.

"That is not an answer," Lars corrected. Hans looked down, unsure of what to say. "Your orders were clear, were they not?" Lars asked. Hans didn't respond. "So I will ask again. What were you thinking?" his tone became more menacing.

"I fell in love," Hans tried, but Lars' condescending gaze made him doubt himself. "Or at least, I-I think I did," he added sheepishly. Surely, Lars should understand that love, indeed, was a probable answer.

"Oh, Hans. If you believe that you fell in love you are more idiotic and naïve than even _I_ thought," he said coldly.

"It's true!" Hans said, defensively. "I know it sounds crazy, but Princess Anna loves me and we-"

"She doesn't _love_ you Hans. And you don't love her! You don't even _know_ each other!"

"You're wrong. We felt something tonight. She does loves me-"

"She doesn't! She doesn't know any better. It was her first day outside of the castle walls and all she found was _you_. Who is to say once she gets wind of any other man she bumps into she is not going to fall for him as well? You are setting yourself up for disaster, and shaming the Westergaard name in the process!" Hans was speechless. Lars walked towards Hans, his eyes narrowing. "Your family would be ashamed if they knew just how weak you _really_ are. They have always thought so little of you, how disappointing that you must prove it so quickly."

Hans' legs suddenly felt weak. He sat on the sofa by the fireplace, feeling sick to his stomach. Lars was right; how foolish he was acting. In LOVE? He didn't even know what love was, and yet he was willing to throw away everything because he assumed his infatuation with Anna was true love. Lars sighed, turning to poke at the dying fire.

"Such a shame I have to report this to your father," he said, sadly. Hans looked up at him, his eyes pleading.

"Please, don't tell them. They want to see me fail, it would kill what little dignity I have in their eyes," Hans begged. Lars' lips curled into a wry smile.

"I suppose there is a way we can try to fix this," Lars suggested coolly.

"Anything," Hans agreed, just thankful for any opportunity to undo what he'd done in such little time.

"You'll need to kill Queen Elsa."

_**Next chapter coming asap. Please review!**_


	5. Freezing Heart

**Chapter 4:**

Freezing Heart

_You'll have to kill Queen Elsa._

He felt nauseous from his conversation with Lars, who offered up this cold, heartless solution to the problem he faced. He'd always known Lars was dark, but this plan was downright diabolical.

"Kill Queen Elsa?" Hans asked Lars in disbelief that the words had even fell from his mouth. Hans then suddenly remembered watching Lars his whole life, always whispering in his father's ear, always around. He began to wonder just how many of the ruthless things he'd watched his father accomplish as king had been through the influence of Lars.

One time, when Hans was quite small, he remembered wandering through the castle hallways late at night trying to find his mother. He happened upon his father's study, the door slightly ajar. He reached for the handle, hoping to see his mother nestled by the fire reading a book as usual, but instead he heard the hushed voices of his father and Lars, plotting.

"Your majesty, King Julian has had plenty of warnings. It is time to make good on your threats," he'd heard Lars harshly whisper.

"But the countless, civilian lives at stake-" the king began.

"Collateral damage, your highness. He knew this was the risk!"

"I don't want that blood upon my hands," the king sighed.

"Are you weak? Do you want the other kingdoms to believe you won't hold true to your threats if they do not uphold their part of a treaty?" There was a long silence.

"When should we begin getting our men ready?"

Young Hans had a very little idea of what they were talking about, but the conversation stuck with him his whole life. It was at that moment, as a child even, that he realized that Lars was a force to be reckoned with, and his powers of manipulation were strong. But even knowing these things about him, it was almost impossible to not fall into his trap. Ultimately, the man knew what he was doing.

So when Lars told him he needed to kill Queen Elsa, Hans knew that as deplorable and awful as it was, Lars had a reason behind it.

"You will be a hero in the eyes of the kingdom," Lars assured.

"Anna would never forgive me," Hans said, shaking his head, "they'd lock me up for sure. I-it would accomplish nothing!"

"Not if it was an _accident_," Lars said darkly, his eyes intense. Hans chewed on that a moment. "She is dangerous, Hans. She obviously has no control over herself, of her powers. Any other leader would march up that mountain, drag her down and hang her for witchcraft. She is killing her own people! Something must be done about this. And you are the hero that should do it."

"But…Anna…" he thought aloud.

"Of course you'll _have_ to marry her, she is your only way to the throne now. It shouldn't be a problem if she loves you the way you say she does. Then, you can still rule as king, isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you've always dreamed of?" Lars asked. "You said so yourself, you and Anna are in love, am I correct?" Hans' head lowered, his eyes averting to the floor. His head hurt, he was so confused.

"Yes, w-we are," he said with less conviction than before. He sighed an exasperated sigh and ran a bothered hand through his hair. He knew he cared for her, he knew their connection was real. But was Lars right? Could he have just been the first man she met outside the castle gates? "I don't know! I don't know _anything_ anymore."

"My confused boy, let me help you," Lars purred, his boney hand finding Hans' slumped shoulder. "You will be the leader Arendelle needs, you will feed the hungry and cloak the cold. If Anna has not arrived home by sunset tomorrow, we will send you and a few men after her. She will be returned safely to the castle, and you will go up the North Mountain and destroy the sorceress, and end this winter by any means necessary." Hans said nothing. Lars sighed. "Consider her death…an acceptable loss. Anna will mourn, but she will turn to you for strength and support. She will take her sister's place as queen with you by her side."

Hans was at war with himself.

The part of Hans that thirsted for power, for admiration and respect, knew that one could simply look at this as a tactical maneuver, some would even call it _ambition_. Many men had done much worse for power, and Elsa really was killing her own people; they would never survive much longer in these conditions. He arose, walking slowly to the window, watching the blistering snow, no end in sight. He stood at the glass, catching himself in the reflection. His eyes looked tired, morose.

_So much for a new, carefree life._

The good part of Hans, however, knew that he would never be able to look into Anna's eyes knowing that he'd killed her sister, no matter how justifiable and heroic the act itself may seem.

"This…" he felt his eyebrows furrow into a frown, his eyes involuntarily misting. "This is wrong." Lars came up behind him, placing both hands upon his shoulders this time.

"Thirteenth in line," he said darkly. "That's always been such burden on you. Knowing that your brothers _despise_ you, that they don't expect any greatness from you. It has taken its toll on you, hasn't it?" Lars' voice was strangely sympathetic. Hans felt his head nodding in agreement. It _had_ been hard. "But, just imagine how surprised they would be to know that your mission in Arendelle was a success, hmm? You'd have the respect, the power, the love that you've always wanted, wouldn't you?" Lars smirked, turning and walking to the door.

"Why does it have to be so hard?" Hans asked, more to himself than to Lars.

"Part of having power is having to make hard decisions," Lars sighed. Hans didn't respond. "I'll leave you with your thoughts, your majesty," and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.

Hans didn't bother dressing for sleep, just slipped off his boots and collapsed on the bed. He was _exhausted_, but he was quite certain he would be getting no sleep tonight; there was still too much too do, still too much bouncing around inside of his restless mind, especially now. He tossed, he turned. He found it hard to rest easy knowing so many were cold, knowing Anna was somewhere out there.

He began to play back the events of the evening in his mind, from meeting Anna on that dock to watching her ride off into the cold. Was it really only a mere 24 hours ago that things felt so promising? He wished deep down that he could just start the day over, try again with different results. This is why his family hated him. He always made a mess of things.

He blamed himself, probably more than he should. He hadn't the slightest idea that Elsa would freeze Arendelle, that he would be left to care for a kingdom in peril. Perhaps he really wasn't king material, perhaps he wasn't cut out for this.

And all he kept thinking was that now he had to make a decision about Elsa. Morning was coming, relentlessly, and the snow showed no sign of stopping.

* * *

When Hans awoke, only a couple of hours had passed. He was groggy, still tired, but day had finally broken; he knew that the kingdom could not wait for him to catch up on much-needed rest OR think about all that had happened. He dressed quickly, arming himself with his sword, hurrying down the confusing and maze-like corridors to meet with the guards in the courtyard.

"Your Majesty," Kai greeted. "I trust you slept well?" he attempted politely.

"Thank you," Hans responded, unsure of what else to say. '_No, actually. I hardly slept at all and mulled over my plot to kill your queen and marry your princess._' He took in a deep breath, his lungs filling with cold air. It was slightly refreshing, and certainly helped wake him the rest of the way up. "Any news from the North Mountain?" Hans asked, happy to see that snow had ceased, even though the kingdom was blanketed in deep, thick snow.

"None yet, my liege. We have sent some men to scout the area for food and firewood," Kai reported. "What is our next move?" he asked, his eyes full of hope. Hans glanced around, the townspeople were huddled together by weak fires, trying to plow roadways for their horses and securing their homes. They looked tired, weary.

"We will-" he paused, thinking about what Lars had said the night before. "Continue to cloak and feed our people, do what we can to stay warm. We are working on a plan to return the Queen and the Princess safely and thaw this winter," he said assertively. He ran to the back of a wagon where he picked up a stack of blankets and cloaks. He began to move through the crowd.

"Cloak? Does anyone need a cloak?" he asked aloud, trying to help as much as he knew how. To be honest, he was mostly just winging it at this point. All he could do now was make himself useful and keep the townspeople safe, warm and alive. A woman approached, one he recognized from the ball. Her name was Gerda.

"Arendelle is indebted to you, your highness," she said, heartfelt.

"The castle is open. There's soup and hot glogg in the Great Hall," he announced. He approached a guard that looked unoccupied, handing him his stack of cloaks.

"Here, pass these out," he instructed. He turned to see the Duke approaching. He internally rolled his eyes, knowing full well he was not in the mood to deal with him right now.

"Prince Hans, are we just expected to sit here and freeze while you give away all of Arendelle's tradable goods?" he asked, accusingly. Hans stood tall, trying to at least appear confident and collected.

"Princess Anna has given her orders and-"

"And that's another thing; has it dawned on you that your princess may be conspiring with a wicked sorceress to destroy us all?" That was it. Hans had finally had enough of this. His eyes narrowed, his voice lowered.

"Do not question the Princess. She left me in charge, and I will not hesitate to protect Arendelle from treason." As he spoke the words, he didn't recognize his own voice, his own tone. It came from a place deep inside of him that he didn't even know existed, but the fear in the Duke's eyes when he threatened him gave Hans a small rush. Is that what power feels like? To be able to coerce people into doing what you want, just like that? All he knew was he liked the way it felt.

Suddenly and without warning, Hans and the guards could hear that alarmed whinnying of a horse. Hans turned to see Anna's horse, frightened. It was kicking and bucking, startled by something. But one thing that Hans couldn't help but notice was that the horse was alone.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa, boy. Easy. Easy," he coaxed, grabbing his reins to help calm him down. He could hear the upset murmuring of people in the crowd.

"Princess Anna's horse!" one said.

"What happened to her? Where is she?" said another.

Hans was distraught; he knew better than to let her go off on her own. He looked up at the mountains, knowing she was somewhere up there.

_Alone. Cold. Defenseless. _

He then looked down to all the troubled faces of the townspeople, guards and coronation guests. All eyes upon him, looking _to_ him.

"Princess Anna is in trouble," he uttered aloud. "I need volunteers to go with me to find her!" he announced. The Duke instantly offered up his two henchmen, but Hans didn't care who it was as long as they hurried quickly, time was running out and they needed to find her. Not _just_ because he cared for her…but because any chance of him getting to the throne died right along with her.

* * *

The snow came up to Sitron's knees as he and Hans forged through the powdery snow. While the blizzard itself had ceased, the sky was white with clouds and it was clear that it could begin again at any given moment.

Hans kept moving forward, his posse close behind him. None of them spoke too often, other than shouting orders back and forth once in a while. Hans relished in the luxury of having time to sort through his thoughts up to this point. He'd been so tired before that he really hadn't had the opportunity to figure out just how he felt about everything. In all honesty, even Hans didn't know what he was thinking at this point. His confusion over the situation, over his feelings for Anna, just made it all that much worse.

He was on phase two of Lars' plan. Going after Anna. It had only been a few hours since she vanished, but he never should have let her go alone. Why didn't he just go with her? If he'd just gone then he wouldn't have had that little heart-to-heart with Lars, and maybe he wouldn't be so messed up inside now.

But Anna wouldn't _LET_ him go, either. Even had he protested, she refused. This was something she had to do alone, she'd insisted.

However, he also realized that he _would_ have insisted on going with her more strongly, but she said something that made him stay.

_"I need you here to take care of Arendelle."_

Just like _that_. A throne, no matter how temporary, just handed over to him. He was disgusted with himself. At this point, the woman he cared for was probably frozen or devoured by wolves and still all he could think about was that damn throne.

That part of himself was the part that scared him the most, the part he had tried to leave back in the Southern Isles. But there he was, making horrible decisions in the name of power and control. All he could think about in that moment was taking care of Arendelle, NOT because he cared for their well-being, but to win over the favor of the kingdom and be a hero.

_But I'm NOT a hero._

_NOT to the person that needed me most. _

No, all this time to think just made Hans realize that he still wasn't, and might not ever be, a truly good person. Because while the tormented Hans rode up the mountain searching for the woman he loved, he wasn't sure anymore if it was because he actually loved her or if he loved what she could do for him.

But couldn't it be both? Couldn't he love her AND what she could do for him? And couldn't he try to control Elsa without killing her, but use Lars' plan as a last resort? The problem, however, was that now he had tasted what power truly felt like. He'd had a kingdom look to him, he'd known how great it feels to be king…and he wasn't sure he could ever go back to what it felt like before.

The group approached a tavern, one that had faint tracks in the snow nearby. He instructed his men to stop and hopped off the horse. At the very least they could ask for directions up the North Mountain and re-supply, even just take a break somewhere warm for a few moments, they'd been traveling so long.

The warmth of the store was a welcome feeling for Hans, and his hands instantly began to ache from hours of being numb in the snow.

"Yoo-hoo," a large, mustachioed man greeted him as he walked in, bee-lining for the sanctuary of the fireplace. "Can I help you?"

"We are looking for a Princ-" he stopped himself, realizing that the mountain man may have no idea who princess Anna is. "-ehm, a woman. She may have come by this way last night. She was wearing a green gown, strawberry blonde hair-"

"Jah, she vas here," he nodded. "Bought out our entire vinter section." Relief washed over Hans, happy to know she'd at least made it this far, that they were on the right track. He hurried to the clerk's desk, leaning in eagerly.

"Wonderful, do you know which way she went?" he asked, desperately.

"Jah, her and her friend vent up the North Mountain, I saw them leave early this morning, before the sun came up."

"Great, I'll-" Hans paused, his brows lowering. He realized what the shop owner had just said. "Her and her…friend?" he asked. "Was it a blonde woman?" Perhaps she'd found Elsa?

"No, the man vith the veindeer and the sled,"

"Wait…_Man_…?" Hans repeated quietly.

"Jah, they stayed the night in my stable, then left in the vee hours," he smirked. "They thought I didn't see him but Oaken sees everything that goes on up here."

"They stayed the night…together? In a stable?" Hans asked, his confused tone becoming more disgusted than anything else. Oaken nodded, Hans took a step back. Although he was confused and profoundly hurt at this realization, he tried his best to brush it off quickly.

"We are also trying to get up the North Mountain, what is the quickest route?" Hans asked, all-business. The man shook his head.

"The storm is too bad, you'll have to try again another day." Hans' patience wore out, he'd had enough conversing with this guy. He turned to his men who were still warming up by the fire and picking up various supplies.

"Come on, men. Let's go," Hans ordered before angrily storming out the front door and into the snow outside. He took a moment to collect his thoughts on the porch of the tavern, taking his face in his hands and rubbing his eyes. He was now beyond exhausted, it showed on his face. He was angry, but he wasn't sure exactly why.

Then he realized just what it was that was burning him up inside.

On one hand, Hans realized he should be relieved that Anna wasn't alone on her hunt for Elsa, that at least someone was with her in case she got hurt or in trouble. But the fact still remained that Anna wouldn't let Hans go with her, wouldn't let him protect her. There were plenty of officials that could have taken care of the kingdom in their absence, but she wanted to do it alone.

And yet it was now increasingly clear that Lars' theory about Anna, about her running off with any other man she found outside of the castle walls, may be right. Which, in turn, triggered the awful, aching thought:

_What else was Lars right about?_

All this time, confused or not, Hans knew that Anna and he cared about one another, had a real connection, and regardless of his own, personal and political agendas, he planned on marrying her. This whole time since she took off he was beating himself up, imagining the worst happening to her, and knowing he should have gone with her. He should have been the one beside her, protecting her.

_The first day out of the castle she gets engaged to you, then stays the night with a strange man in a stable._

The voice returned, slewing as much self-doubt and anxiety as it could. He realized, no matter how much he wanted it to be true, it was naïve to believe that Anna loved him. She didn't love him, she didn't even know what love was.

Which meant that his mission in Arendelle could no longer be personal.

It was just business, now.

**a/n**

**Incredibly tough chapter to write, mostly because Hans' thought are simply ALL over the place, but I think it is because HE is simply all over the place. He is completely at war with himself over what he WANTS to do, what he SHOULD do and what Lars is trying to MAKE him do. The torn prince, eh? **

**Also thank you guys for your awesome, thoughtful and great reviews. As a writer it really helps encourage more to come! I hope you're all enjoying it.  
**


	6. Cold As Ice

**Chapter 5:**

_Cold As Ice_

The trek the rest of the way up the North Mountain was grueling, mostly because the thick snow left the horses winded, and they needed to stop more frequently than Hans would have preferred. He tried his best to shake off the conversation with Oaken, but the more he thought about it, the more he quietly fumed.

So far, there'd been no sign of Anna. He realized, if he found her, that somehow he would have to keep his cool long enough to at least marry her, otherwise the plan was ruined and he would be going home empty handed and shamed. His fear now, however, was that with Anna running around with some random, strange man, that maybe her affections for _him_ had changed. He knew for certain his had; in his eyes and his heart, she had betrayed him. He never should have fallen so quickly, he never should have let his guard down. He just hoped she was naïve enough to say 'I do,' still. But Lars had been right, and that thought killed him the most.

This had turned into way more than he had bargained for, and he was becoming increasingly resentful of just how inconvenient this search and rescue mission was becoming. On the positive side, however, he'd gained favor with the kingdom. Now all he had to do was marry Anna and get Elsa to stop this winter.

The search party came upon a bridge of ice, and there was a change in the wind. Hans could see a glimmering, shining, castle made of ice in the distance. They'd found it. Hans suddenly felt nervous.

Perhaps he didn't have to _kill_ Elsa. The kingdom seemed to love the queen, and what if killing her, no matter how justifiable it may seem, sparked outrage? What if they turned on him? Yes, he still wanted to take her place, but maybe there was another way.

"We are here to find Princess Anna," Hans yelled out to his men. "Be on guard, but no harm is to come to the Queen. Do you understand?"

Suddenly, Hans felt a shift in the ground, a deep but gentle rumbling. A mass of snow began to rise behind him, taking the form of a huge, snowy being. Hans had never seen anything like it before.

"Go away!" the creature bellowed, slamming his giant fist down in the snow only a few inches away from Hans, who was able to narrowly escape the impact. All of the guards rushed the monster, only to be quickly knocked down into the fresh, powdery snow. The snow creature then sent a guard and his horse across the way, toppling over Hans who again remained unscathed. Militant training came flooding back to Hans in an instant, although he'd never properly trained for defeating a mystical, evil snowman. He watched in horror as the creature rose his foot to stomp on him, but he quickly barrel-rolled himself out of the way.

Out in front of him, Hans spotted his sword, the metal glistening in the snow. With all his force, he threw himself towards it and grabbed it. The monster rose his foot again, nearly crushing Hans under it. Out of breath and over-tired, Hans found a reserve of inner strength as he jumped to his feet, and with all the strength left in him, he sliced at the creatures leg, lopping it clean off his body. The snowman began to hobble, quickly losing his footing falling backwards over the ridiculously high cliff, but not without striking Hans who immediately fell over the edge.

With a stroke of sheer luck and agility, Hans grabbed onto the frozen steps, clinging to life. In a matter of seconds his men n were there, helping him up over the edge. In normal circumstances, one would need a few moments to regain their composure. Hans looked back, the cliff so deep that he couldn't even make anything out at the bottom; if he had fallen down the cliff it would have all been over. But there was no time for that, Hans had seen the Duke's henchmen rush the castle while he was dealing with the creature, and he had to get inside to make sure the plan was not going awry.

Hans and the men ran inside, hearing yells from up the steep, shiny stairs. They ran as fast as they could to the top, where they saw the destruction, Elsa holding off the two henchmen as they clung to life.

"Queen Elsa!" Hans called out to the beautiful frightened queen. "Don't be the monster they fear you are!" He wasn't sure why that choice of words fell from his lips; in all honesty, he hadn't really thought a whole lot about what he would say to her once he came in. She seemed to snap out of her rage, realizing that she was very close to killing two men that were only afraid, as she was. Hans watched the terrified queen, her franticness only confirmed to him that she really didn't have any control over herself or her powers, just as Lars had suspected.

Hans could see one of the henchmen raising his bow towards the queen.

_Not like this_, he thought, running towards him. It needed to be an accident, or not at all. But not like this. He knocked the crossbow up, the arrow shooting off at the chandelier above instead, falling down from the ceiling. Hans watched as Elsa dodged the icy sculpture, only to be knocked out from hitting her head upon the hard floor. Shards of sharp, icy pieces went flying and the crash echoed through the room. Hans turned to the henchman in a rage.

"What were you _thinking_?" he yelled, his face reddening. "What part of no harm to the Queen do you not understand?"

"I-I…" he stammered. Hans turned, wiping sweat from brow. He heaved a great sigh, loosening his cloak around his neck, trying to catch his breath. He walked towards the center of the room, the ice crunching like glass underneath his boots. He kneeled down towards the lovely queen, brushing her hair from her face.

Hans felt sorry for her, especially now. She was a danger to her kingdom, a danger to herself. Without any control of her powers or emotions she was surely going to be overthrown, the people would not survive with her as queen. He scooped her up in his arms, lifting her up.

"We need to take her back to the castle before she awakens, it is unsafe for her to be free, she has no control."

"But, your majesty, where will we take her?" a guard asked.

"To the dungeon."

* * *

"What part of the plan were you unclear on?" Lars seethed.

"I couldn't kill her," Hans defended. "I was afraid the kingdom would turn on me for killing their _beloved_ queen…a part of the plan I don't think you completely thought through," Hans challenged, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. Lars stood silently, clenching his jaw as he watched the unconscious queen through the bars of the dungeon door.

"Well, what do you suppose we do with her now?" Lars asked, bitterly. "Since you are the one with the master plan, I see…"

"Her hands are bound, that seems to be the source of the ice. If we can just keep her from getting upset we might have a chance-"

"Are you mad or just an idiot?" Lars spat angrily. "She is dangerous, she has no control! You said so yourself when you brought her down from the mountain!"

"I just-" Hans attempted.

"You're just _USELESS_. You couldn't even follow through with a plan that has been laid out for you."

The men stood silently, watching Elsa stir in the cell. Hans felt a twinge of sadness, watching her. She wasn't a villain. She was confused, she was scared. He knew the feeling. But people like this, with uncontrollable powers, they couldn't stay free among the others. It _was_ too dangerous.

"I am going to talk to her," Hans said, Lars refused to reply, clearly unhappy about the most recent turn of events. Hans took a nearby torch, unlatching the locks upon the door and entering the cell. He walked in timidly, afraid to frighten the already timid Queen. She turned to him, the shackled gloves upon her hands keeping her from coming any closer to him.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, upset.

"I couldn't just let them kill you," Hans said, honestly.

"But… I am a danger to Arendelle! Get Anna," she demanded. Hans stepped to her, holding his arms. He was freezing.

"Anna has not returned," Hans said, morosely. He watched her scared face twist into one of worry, her eyes averting towards the storm raging outside. "If you would just stop the winter and bring back summer…please," he said, another step towards her. Then maybe things could go back to how they were, just a day ago. Her pleading eyes met his, both asking of each other what they could not deliver.

"Don't you see, I _can't_. You have to tell them to let me go." Hans realized there was nothing more he could do. If she didn't know how to end this winter, there was only one way. And Lars was right again.

_Elsa had to die._

Defeated, Hans walked to the wooden door, taking his torch.

"I will do what I can," he lied, thankful it sounded more sincere than he expected.

As Hans stepped into the freezing hallway, shutting and locking the door behind him, he could hear the unmistakable sound of ice cracking behind him. She was getting upset, and she was going to take the whole castle down with her when she finally imploded upon herself.

"Well?" Lars cooed, sarcastically. "Did you get her to end the blizzard?" Hans hung his head down, "that's what I thought." Lars placed pressure from his fingertips against his temple. "I swear, Hans, it is getting exhausting cleaning up your messes. We will find a way to dispose of the Queen as soon as possible, although now that she's here I supposed we need not only just _cause,_ but full support from the visiting dignitaries as well," he said, his mind clearly racing. Hans swallowed hard.

"What about Princess Anna?" Hans dared ask.

"If she gets in our way, I suppose we will have to dispose of her, too," Lars said simply.

* * *

Hans and the dignitaries sat in the fireplace-lit library, trying to come up with a solution to their problem. The castle creaked and groaned beneath them, reminding them constantly that their time was running out. They wouldn't survive even 12 more hours of this freezing weather, and although they all knew that more than likely destroying the source of the storm, destroying Elsa, would likely end the blizzard, no one wanted to be the first to suggest such a thing. Hans couldn't help but regret not letting the Duke's henchman kill her on the mountain, at least then the storm would be over.

He felt defeated, pathetic for not being able to carry through with that part of the plan. He liked to think it was the good in him that caused him to hesitate taking an innocent life for the sake of the plan, but now it was becoming increasingly apparent that bringing her off the mountain was only progressing the destruction of Arendelle.

"I'm going back out to look for Princess Anna!" Hans said to the dignitaries and guards, indignantly. He couldn't keep Elsa down in that dungeon forever, and he needed Anna here and alive to ensure he could take his place as king beside her when Elsa was overthrown.

"You cannot risk going out there again," one dignitary said firmly. Hans was feeling increasingly desperate.

"If anything happens to her-" he didn't get a chance to finish his thought, which was probably for the best since the only thing he could really concentrate on was the throne… _and_ their impending doom.

"If anything happens to the Princess, you are all Arendelle has left," another dignitary said profoundly.

Hans hesitated; with one sentence, Hans realized that it didn't matter if he married Anna at all. He didn't need Anna to take rulership of Arendelle. After all, Anna had put him in charge in her absence, did that still stand if the temporary situation became…permanent? Why had this never occurred to him before? He didn't need her to carry through with the plan. And with his heart in pieces over how he felt about her anyway, he figured that was for the best.

But then, suddenly, the doors burst open and in came Gerda and Kai, ushering in a weak Anna, who appeared frantic.

"He's in here. Prince Hans!" Kai said urgently, pushing Anna towards him.

"Anna!" Hans said, hurrying towards her. She fell into his arms. Although he hated to admit it, genuine concern washed over him, and he against his better judgment, Hans was surprised to find himself relieved to see the beautiful princess for a moment.

"You're so cold," he said to her, feeling her cold, fragile body even through his gloved hands, trembling. He looked into her desperate, pleading eyes.

"Hans, you have to kiss me," she said, her eyes full of tears.

"What?" he asked, confused at her erratic behavior.

"Now. Here we go," she said, attempting to pull herself up to meet his lips with hers.

"We'll give you some privacy," Gerda said, everyone beginning to shuffle out, leaving them alone with the crackling sound of the warm fire.

"What happened out there?" Hans asked. It was a loaded question. What _did_ happen out there? Who was she with? Why did she stay the night in a stable with a random man? And why was this kiss so desperate? Then he realized…he didn't care what the answer was. The fact was that he would not be made a fool of any longer.

"Elsa struck me with her powers," she said below saddened, furrowed brows.

"I thought you said she'd never hurt you." _Just like you probably thought Anna would never hurt you_, the voice hissed in his mind, reminding him.

"I was wrong," Anna said, her knees failing beneath her. Hans caught her quickly, scooping her up and carrying her to the sofa. He sat beside her as she shivered. Her stared into her eyes; the warmth and naïve luster was gone. Her hair was white, her body freezing. She was dying, and it made his heart ache in his chest for her whether he wanted it to or not. "She froze my heart and only an act of true love can save me."

"A true love's kiss," Hans said quietly, realizing why she was so desperate for his lips. A million things ran through his mind, he felt trapped within it. Why didn't she just ask her secret lover for a kiss? In fact…_had she_? Had it not worked and that's the only reason she was here now, out of desperation?

Hans began to lean in, slowly, gently. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to heal her frozen heart and make it better for her. The sad, awful fact, however, was that Hans knew that the kiss wasn't going to work. They weren't in love.

And if it DID work, what if she just left him for her mystery man anyway? It was no longer a risk Hans was willing to take.

_You don't need her anymore. Arendelle is yours regardless._

_ Power or love. Power or love. Power or love. _

_ Power._

"Oh Anna," he sighed. "If only there was someone out there who loved you." He felt the words leave his lips and sting when they hit her ears. At that moment, Hans was no longer In control of himself, but powered by an insatiable drive to take the throne and take out some much needed aggression upon the subject of all of his angst, confusion. Anna was ultimately the wrench that was thrown into his plan from the very beginning. She ruined this plan, with her bubbly attitude and big, beautiful eyes. She threw him off, inadvertently ruined his plan and then left him for the first stable boy that came along.

And now she sat before him, begging for his true love's kiss.

"What?" she asked, her eyes large and confused. Hans stood, leaving her crumpled upon the sofa. "Y-you said you did." Hans quietly walked across the room, staring out the window at the snow whipping around outside in a flurry. He caught a glimpse of his reflection, staring back at him.

"As thirteenth in line in my _own_ kingdom, I knew I'd have to marry into the throne _somewhere_-" He began shutting the curtains; he didn't want to look at himself as he said these things to her.

"What are you talking about?" she said, her voice cracking. He tried his best not to look at her heartbroken and bewildered expression. He began snuffing out the candles around the room. The least he could do was hurry her death along. It was the more _humane_ thing to do, he reasoned.

"As heir, Elsa was preferable, of course. But no one was getting anywhere with her. But you-"

"Hans," she said pleadingly.

"You were so desperate for love you were willing to marry me, just like that." Hans realized as soon as he said it, he was describing himself, as well. He wanted love, that's all he'd ever wanted. But look what it got him.

_Nothing. Betrayal. _

No, the Hans that she met that night, the one that proposed on a whim? He was a weak man. He was the kind of man his brothers had used as a doormat his whole life. That Hans was naïve, pathetic. Just like her right now.

_ This_ Hans couldn't get hurt.

_ This_ Hans was powerful.

_ This_ Hans was invincible.

He crossed the room, taking a pitcher of water from a table. He sauntered towards the fireplace, menacingly.

"I figured, after we married, I'd have to stage a little accident for Elsa." Anna watched in horror as he began to douse the flames, realizing what he was doing, no doubt. She tried to stop him, falling to the floor and weakly trying to pull herself up.

"Hans. No, stop," she begged.

"But then she doomed herself, and you were dumb enough to go after her." _Alone_. He forgot to add ALONE. Maybe if she had let him come. Maybe if she hadn't inadvertently given him a taste of power and just handed a stranger the throne, the way she handed a stranger a night in a stable.

_She did this to herself. You've been pushed around and beaten down enough in your life. It ends now._

"Please," she cried.

"All that's left now is to kill Elsa and bring back summer." His eyes met hers; they were strong and tense, almost stopping him in his tracks. She had a will to live, she wasn't going down without a fight.

"You're no match for Elsa," she said angrily. He bent down, taking her chin in his hand.

"No, you're no match for Elsa. I, on the other hand, am the hero who is going to save Arendelle from destruction," and it wasn't until Hans said it aloud that he realized he actually believed it. This…this was for the best.

"You won't get away with this," she insisted. Hans rose, staring down at his now ex-fiancée, lying on the floor near death. Nothing he could do about it now, even if he wanted to.

"Oh, I already have," he declared haughtily, leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

Hans stood a moment, leaning against the tall, wooden door. He could hear her struggling after him, jiggling the handle. The door vibrated against his back as she attempted to get out, too weak to yell for help. Hans' stomach hurt, his heart raced. He'd never heard himself say such hurtful, awful things. He was surprised at himself, and hated to admit that the hot, sick feeling that washed over him instantly was more than likely guilt and regret.

"My my, your majesty," he heard a deep voice croak behind him. He turned to see Lars, leaning against the hallway close by. He hung his head in shame, he couldn't believe anyone had heard the horrible things he'd just said. Lars walked towards him slowly, deliberately. "I must say, even I didn't know you had that in you."

"I- I don't know what came over me-" he began to explain. He didn't. The whole situation felt so surreal, so out-of-body.

"I'm impressed," Lars said, his cold voice almost giddy.

"Wh-what do I do now?"

"Let the council know you exchanged your marriage vows. Then-" he paused, a toothy grin spreading across his aging face, "you said so yourself: do away with Elsa and bring back summer…King Hans."

* * *

**A/N - - Can't believe that we are nearing the end of Part I. I have to say, this has been such an interesting challenge as a writer to write. It is often difficult to portray things simultaneously with a story already told, but it's also really fun. I look forward to breaking away from the format of the movie soon to have more creative freedom and see where our characters go. Thanks so much for the reads and the support. Don't forget to review. It makes my day.**


	7. The Shamed Prince

**Chapter 6:**

_The Shamed Prince_

Hans stood outside the double doors of the council chamber. He had to take a moment, get himself prepared to tell the visiting dignitaries and castle guards that Anna had not only perished, but had left him a widower. He didn't have to search too deeply to find a well of emotion within himself; he really did feel a vast, dark melancholy about the way things had ended up. He thought back on the last whirlwind of a day and couldn't believe that so much had happened in such a short period of time. He stood, his head bowed, arm and hand extended out towards the door, leaning against it. He sighed, his heart heavy with failure.

Plan one, his father's plan: Marry Elsa, rule Arendelle and live happily ever after. He'd _thoroughly_ failed that one.

Plan two, Lars' plan: Marry Anna, dispose of Elsa, rule Arendelle and live happily ever after. He'd failed that one even _worse_. Anna was dead and Elsa was destroying the kingdom he was set to rule.

Plan three, which was never a plan at all but the circumstances he'd found himself in, regardless: Dispose of both Anna and Elsa and rule Arendelle by default, a throne that did not belong to him, a throne that never really would.

But what was _his_ plan? The tiny but grand glimmer of an idea he'd seen in the beautiful eyes of a hopeful, sweet princess only a day ago. The plan in the back of his mind as he kneeled on bended knee, warm from champagne and giddy from a sugar high as he asked her to be his bride. The plan that didn't solely focus upon power or thrones, just the hopeless sliver of an idea that maybe, just maybe, Hans was capable of loving and being loved, and that maybe that was enough.

He thought of his brothers, specifically the ones who had opted for more modest lives, the ones who married for love, or the ones who never married and found their vigor through their hobbies and pursuits. He thought about how it just never mattered to them like it did to him and it wasn't _fair_. It wasn't fair to want so desperately to rise to the top because all he'd ever known was the bottom.

So, in turn, he let what little bit of the good in him die along with her on that parlor room floor, cold and hard like his heart. But mostly, alone.

He heard the wooden floorboards beneath him groan once more, the freezing castle walls beginning to ice over from the inside out.

It was time.

Hans took in a sharp breath and pushed the doors open, his face somber and his hair slightly disheveled.

"Prince Hans," one dignitary said, all eyes falling upon him.

"Princess Anna is…dead," he announced, his voice distraught. He went to move towards them but stumbled along the way, his legs shaky and weak. The men hurried to him, comfortingly leading him towards the solace of a chair. He didn't have to put on a façade of being exhausted, he was so far beyond that now that it came naturally.

"What happened to her?" the Duke asked, the men leaning in intently, trying to piece together this tragic puzzle.

"She was killed by Queen Elsa," he informed, riddled with grief.

"Her own sister," the Duke gasped. He looked from face to face of the saddened men, confused at how such a joyous occasion could end in such tragedy.

"At least we got to say our marriage vows…before she died in my arms," he said, bowing his head. Hans brought a hand to his face, shielding the men from the dead givaway; he could not cry. In a way, he wanted to. He wanted to have that release, to shed a tear of remorse for the what he had done, for what he was about to do. But try as he may, the tears would not come.

"There can be no doubt about it now; Queen Elsa is a monster and we are all in grave danger," the Duke insisted, finally giving Hans the clearance he'd been waiting for, but had in the past hoped it would never come to.

"Prince Hans, Arendelle looks to you." It was too late to go back now. Anna was dead, the castle moments from collapsing upon them. He'd come this far.

"With a heavy heart, I charge Queen Elsa of Arendelle with treason and sentence her to death." Silence and sadness filled the room, it was a choice that none of the men had wanted to make but now there was nothing they could do. Their pending king had ordered it, and whether they wanted it to or not the stark fact was glaring them in the face:

It was either _her_ or _them_.

The castle moaned once more, in the distance they could hear the faint sounds of glass shattering, most likely a window bucking under pressure somewhere close-by, to remind them that no more time could waste away.

"Well, let's get on with it, then," the Duke sighed. "We must carry this out immediately, before we all die."

Hans stood silently, turning away from them and walking out the double doors, the men following closely behind. They passed the room where Anna lay, dead upon the floor; Hans tried not to look at the door, he didn't want to think about it, anymore. He just wanted to get this over with so he could sleep, mourn, think, _anything_ other than this. One of the guards approached the door to the library, his hand reaching for the door, most likely going to take Anna to her bedroom chamber until burial arrangements could be made. Hans turned to him quickly, his heart racing.

"Don't go in there!" he shouted. The man stared at him, his dark eyes wide and his mouth agape. Hans calmed himself, adjusting his coat and fixing his glove upon his hand. "I-I mean…let her rest in peace, give her a little dignity," Hans stammered, more collected. The men stared from one to the other, quietly continuing on their way towards the dungeon. After all, who would protest a man who'd just lost his wife?

Hans led them down the winding corridors, trying to memorize the layout. This was his home now, his castle, and he needed familiarize himself with it. Yes, after this was all over he would rest, let the kingdom recognize this as a time of mourning and get his head on straight.

They approached the doors leading down into the dungeon, the men staring at him nervously.

"This is where we leave you, your majesty," the Duke said.

_Good_, he thought to himself. _Less witnesses_. Hans swallowed hard, turned to the guards and motioned for them to follow him down the ice-riddled stairs.

It was slick, Hans almost lost his footing more than once. They congregated outside of the cell, shivering. Hans set his hand upon his sword, unsure of what to expect. The last thing he needed was being blasted by Elsa's magic, although at this point he sincerely doubted he even had a heart left to freeze. He nodded at the guards, it was time to get this over with.

"She's dangerous," one guard yelled through chattering teeth, "move quickly and with resolve." They began towards the door, suddenly blown back by an icy blast, the walls beside them crumbling. They hurried to their feet, Hans pushing through them to see what had happened. The back wall was blown open, the icy storm raging in through the gaping hole and Elsa was gone.

Hans glowered, of course it wasn't going to be simple. What during this entire catastrophe _had_ been? He marched forward, it was time to end this once and for all.

"Your majesty! What are you doing?" a guard yelled.

"I am going after her!" Hans bellowed back, jumping through the hole in the wall and landing up to his knees in white, powdery snow.

He could hardly see because the wind was so strong and sharp, stinging snowflakes nipped at his face as he searched for her cowering silhouette in the distance. He could hardly make it out, but sure enough about a hundred feet in front of him stood Elsa, the eye of the storm, stumbling and desperate to find somewhere to run. He forged onward, trying to catch up to her.

This was it.

Too late to turn back now.

He was at the finish line, he'd already done too much. For a moment, in that windy, turbulent storm, Hans felt calm, collected. He could hear nothing, not the snow whipping by nor the yells of the guards behind him, nor the pained cries of Elsa trying to find her way through.

"Elsa! You can't run from this!" he yelled out to her, approaching her carefully, stumbling over his own feet in the treacherous weather. She began to back away, slowly, scared.

"…just, take care of my sister!" she instructed.

_Anna._

Another mention of the woman he'd left to die only moments ago. He let that sink in for a second, the pain he was trying to portray to her becoming slightly, if not increasingly, authentic.

"Your sister? She returned from the mountain, cold and weak. She said you froze her heart!" he told her.

"What? No…" The pain in her eyes was almost unbearable to witness, even for Hans.

_Especially for me._

And he wished that story could be true, that it wasn't riddled with his lies and ulterior motives. Why couldn't things have just gone to plan?

"I tried to save her, but it was too late. Her skin was ice. Her hair turned white," he watch Elsa's face sink as she took full responsibility for Anna's death. "Your sister is dead…" and for a brief moment, Hans wanted to stop the charade, turn himself in. But what good would that do? It would get him a one way ticket to the end of a short rope, that's what. "Because of you," he added.

He watched as Elsa dropped to her knees, utterly devastated at the news. Hans watched in awe as the swirling wind around them ceased, the snowflakes freezing in midair. She put her head in her hands, her spirit crushed, her heart broken. The silence was completely deafening.

He'd finally found her vulnerable, unable to defend herself. It was time to end her misery, and with it, end his own. He thought about all those years as he slowly, carefully, unsheathed his sword. He thought about the time he'd spent alone, the way his brothers hated and taunted him his whole life.

No more torment. No more hurt. No more loneliness. No more heartache. No more disappointment. No more disrespect. No more anger. No more fear.

_For either of us_.

He drew the sword up, every bit of emotion and aggression building up to this one moment where he could end it all. With all of his remaining strength, he brought to sword down.

"No!" He heard a yell, and instead of the satisfying feeling of sword to flesh, he felt a ting of metal clashing with something even stronger. The sheer impact blew him back, instantly knocking his head onto the ground and everything went black.

* * *

Hans opened his eyes, groggily making sense of his surroundings. The landscape, instead of cold and hostile was warm and clear, the sky the first thing coming into focus. The sun shone brightly down upon him, and he instantly realized he was vastly overdressed for such warm weather.

His head throbbed, his mouth was dry. He could taste the metallic tinge of blood on his tongue. He rubbed his jaw, which ached, trying to find his footing. He stared down at his boots to see wooden planks below his feet, standing on the deck of a ship. He glanced around to see people conjugating, celebrating.

The winter was gone.

Had he done it? Was it over? Did he kill Elsa and end the storm?

His answer came quickly and he saw a familiar woman close by, embracing her sister, both of which were very much alive. He felt instantly sick to his stomach. It was over, and not in the way he had planned.

Once again, proving to himself and his family and everyone in the world that he was as useless as a leader as he was a lowly, 13th-to-the-throne prince.

He noticed that Anna was standing close to a huge, burly man with blonde hair and a stocking cap. Their eyes met, the man suddenly marching towards him with a deep anger in his eyes. Anna stopped him, turning to Hans, her eyes burning into him. He was shocked, but slightly relieved in a way as well, that she was alive. At least he could rest easy without her blood on her hands; he was so exhausted.

"Anna?" he asked, puzzled. "But…she froze your heart," he remembered suddenly. She folded her arms, her face hard, a way he'd never seen her before. The love in her eyes was gone, replaced with complete, justifiable, disgust and hurt.

"The only frozen heart around here is yours," she said, obviously proud of that witty remark. Hans was slightly surprised that that is all she said, considering all the things he'd done. But that wasn't the end, in one swift movement, Anna whirled around, her fist hitting Hans so hard and quickly, he didn't even see it coming. Surprised by the blow, Hans lost his footing and toppled over the edge of the boat and into the cold bay water.

As he reemerged from the water, he couldn't help but instantly remember that this was like falling into the bay only a day ago, only this time the situation was much different. How could so much have changed in a matter of 24 hours? He rubbed his cheek, taken aback by the stinging sensation and the realization that a knot was already forming. She'd got him good.

Hans swam to shore, kicking his legs fiercely, hoping to get back to his ship in once piece. He realized, quickly, that that was more than likely not going to happen. He glanced up at the dock to see four castle guards, all bearing the seal of Arendelle, waiting for him.

One held shackles.

* * *

She didn't sentence him to death. The look in her eyes said that she wanted to.

_Treason_.

But the look on Anna's showed some kind of lenience, softness even after all that had happened, as if she'd had some kind of bearing on this decision.

"In most cases, the sentence for treason is death," Queen Elsa had explained before him. He knew that. "However, given the fact that you claim you did not act alone, I am exiling you back to the Southern Isles to await your proper sentencing there." Her icy cold gaze was chilling. "I don't need your filthy blood upon my hands."

"I didn't act alone," he'd reiterated, not at all phased by the fact that he had only narrowly evaded death. In fact, death would have been a more humane choice for one in his position. Facing his father and brothers was a fate _worse_ than death.

"Well, where is your accomplice? Lars, you say?" Elsa asked. Hans' eyes moved from sister to sister, Anna purposefully avoiding his glances. She'd cleared her throat and stared at her sister, ignoring him.

"I-" he began. It didn't matter. He had no idea where Lars was, probably hiding out, knowing the plan had gone awry and he was jeopardy of taking the fall right along with him. Instead of facing what he'd done, he had ran off somewhere.

_Like a coward._

And that was that.

So, the cell was a welcome sight to him, simply because it had a bed, and he so desperately wanted to hide away and lick his wounds in peace. It didn't matter that half of the castle's dungeon was in ruins; there was an entire other half of the dungeon left untouched. That was where they took him to await repairs on his ship.

In all honestly, Hans felt nothing at first as a guard roughly shoved him into the cell, the loud clanking of the lock sounding off behind him. He was numb. All he wanted was to sleep forever, he'd deal with the consequences later. Sleep was a gentle, wonderful escape from the horrifying realization that not only had he failed, shamed his father, and shamed himself, but now he had to go back to the Southern Isles and face what he'd done. He'd have to face his brother.

The guards didn't let him change out of his still-wet clothing; he'd removed his cloak and boots, socks and other small articles of clothing to let them dry.

He lay upon the cot, his arm draped across his face to finally, finally, get some rest and collect his bearing. He let out a deep, long sigh.

"How's your face?" he heard a quiet, but familiar, voice chime. He lifted his arm a bit, peeking out to confirm what he already knew; Anna stood, staring at him with wide eyes and an unsure look on her face through the bars of the cell. She spoke as though she, herself, knew that she shouldn't be there. In fact, he wasn't at all certain _why_ she was there, nor did he care. He scoffed, falling back into his original position.

"You punch like a girl," he antagonized.

"Well, then you take a hit like a girl," she retorted, huffily. They sat in silence, Hans just praying she would go away. It was bad enough he had failed so miserably; her face was literally the last face he wanted to see right now. Although he hated to admit it, it was partly because he felt ashamed, partly because he hated her, and partly because she still made his stomach flutter.

He hated that part most of all.

"I just want to know why," he heard her weakly say, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence. He didn't have to look at her to know her eyes were most likely brimming with tears at this point.

"You know, I don't really want to talk about this," he peered at her through a raised eyebrow.

"I don't think you're in a position to be telling me what you want and don't want to do," she observed, her eyes scanning the deplorable cell conditions. Hans sighed from the annoyance, let alone the questioning, bringing his arm down and sitting up slowly. He sat, his legs parted, elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands together, wringing them together.

"I don't know," he finally said, exasperated. He looked up at her once again; her face spoke volumes. That answer wasn't good enough. He stood, nearing her, slowly. His eyes were intense, narrow. She took a step back from the bars, timidly holding herself.

"That's not an answer," she spoke, her head high, her voice commanding. Scolding. He smirked at her; she was trying to look brave, strong in her convictions, the way a child looks when they play dress up in adult clothes.

"Power. Admiration." he began listing. A stony, cruel look in his eye flashed as he spoke the last, the most poignant of all. "Love," he dared. She stepped towards him, her face flushed, tears reforming, angry ones this time.

"Well, how does it feel to have _nothing_?" she asked, bitterly. He waved a cavalier hand, ignoring her question. "Hey, I am talking to you!" she said, presumably frustrated with his lack of empathy.

"More or less the same, I guess. I'm used to it by now," he said, his voice dripping in sarcasm, shrugging his shoulders uncaringly. She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. "Look, if you thought you could come down here and get to me, come down here and get all your heartbroken aggression out and be able to walk away from this all in peace and friendship, you were sadly mistaken," he informed, coldly. "Being forgotten, ignored, hurt? That's nothing new to me. I've been dealing with it my whole damn life. My life before Arendelle was a prison cell, this is no different to me."

"_How_ could I have been so wrong about you?" she asked, rhetorically of course, she didn't expect him to answer it. His eyes widened, his mouth agape.

"Oh, I should say the same about you, _princess_!" he spat indignantly. Her face twisted into a look of disgust, her nose wrinkling, her brows furrowed.

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"How was your little adventure and sleepover with your little boyfriend?" Hans asked. Pure confusion painted her face, she thought hard, trying to figure out who on earth he was referring to. "You know, the one you sleep in stables with?" he coaxed.

"_Kristoff_?" she asked.

"Oh, I see it has a name," Hans scoffed, turning from her and walking back towards his bed. "And not even a good one," he mumbled under his breath.

"Hans, _nothing_ happened with Kristoff, I love _you_." She spoke the words slowly, deliberately, her eyes burning into him. Her saddened expression pained him, but only slightly.

"Love?" he mocked, nearing the bars once more.

"Well, _loved_," she clarified quickly, her eyes darting away from his, holding out the "d" to accentuate the past tense. What did it matter now, anyway? Too much damage had been done. He took hold of the bars, his face peering through at her, only inches away from hers.

"You didn't love me, you just met me first. I could have been anyone. You ran off with the next man you came across. That isn't love, Anna." Not that he was an expert on love, he clearly was incapable of loving himself, let alone anyone else. That didn't keep him from calling a spade a spade.

"You are _delusional_, Hans!" she fumed, enraged once more. "I do know what love is! Unlike you, who left me to die, tried to kill my sister and take over my kingdom! A-and at least Kristoff knows what it means to be _selfless_. He came back for me-" she sputtered off quickly, her voice shaking.

"Oh, oh really? Seems like a great guy," Hans baited.

"He is!" she insisted.

"So, then you and this Kristoff…are you _together_ now?" Hans asked, she paused, instantly knowing where he was going with this.

"Well-" she choked, her cheeks pinkening.

"A mere two days after our engagement?" he gasped in fake surprise.

"Well, I mean, I wouldn't say we're…together…" she said meekly, her words trailing off and losing their confidence. She squirmed under his gaze, awkwardly tucking a piece of lose hair behind her ear. "What is your point, anyway? I am not the one in a cell, here. I didn't do anything wrong other than love you," she spat.

"My point exactly," he said, his voice low. He reached his hand out through the bar, the same hand that had only a short while ago had clutched the handle of a sword high over her sister's head, the hand that had doused a flame as she lay dying. She flinched at first, but didn't move as he gently pressed his hand against her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He was surprised he even attempted to touch her, let alone the fact that she let him. He stared deeply into her eyes, suddenly overcome with a forlorn longing that he wasn't quite sure what to do with. But he didn't let it last long.

"And that is?" she found herself inquiring.

"You don't even know what love is." She took in a deep breath, this wasn't a conversation she was going to entertain anymore. Anna moved her hand up, pulling his away from her face.

"Well at least I know what it isn't," she said, standing tall, her words concrete. "You broke my heart," she added, almost in a whimper. A slow, wry smile crossed his lips, his chagrin returning to the cold, heartless Hans she'd met in the parlor.

"Oh Anna," he sighed. "You broke mine first." She stared at him, her gaze unbreaking, undoubtedly trying to piece together how the master manipulator had turned this around so quickly. He turned away from her, retiring to his cot. He didn't look at her as he uttered, "You'd better go. Kristoff's waiting."

**End of Part I**


	8. PART II: The King Is Dead

**The Torn Prince: **_**Part II**_

_The King Is Dead_

**_A/N - _**

**_Thank you all for your reading and your wonderful support. I've had a lot of fun writing this, and I have been excited to get onto my own more creative part that doesn't parallel the movie. I am excited to see where this goes! Please review!_**

* * *

The disgraced Prince Hans scratched the scruff around his neck and chin incessantly, annoyed with its presence. He hadn't shaved in four weeks, the entire passage from Arendelle back to the Southern Isles. He wasn't used to the lack of grooming, nor did he like it. However, being a prisoner instead of a passenger had a lot to do with his inability to clean himself up. That was a luxury he was no longer allotted, prince or not.

The tiny brig held only him, a washbasin, a cot and his daily meals. His legs ached from not being able to walk or run, his pale skin becoming nearly translucent from the lack of proper sunlight. He was miserable, and he owed it all to himself.

_ And Lars._

_ And Elsa's ice powers._

_ And Anna coming in and complicating __**everything**__. _

It was only be a matter of hours now before they arrived back in the Southern Isles, he estimated; he'd kept a tally of the days on his wall, something he'd seen other prisoners do in his time but had never understood. Why even bother counting the days? All it did was remind yourself that your freedom was stripped of you for so long, with so much more time to go.

He wondered what his father would do, what he would say to him. He'd had the time to concoct a story, especially without Lars here to discredit him. He would let Lars take the fall, after all, Lars did have significant bearing on what had happened in Arendelle, but it was Hans left holding the bag. If he ever ran into Lars again he'd…

Well, it wouldn't be pretty.

He heaved a great sigh, his back propped up against the wooden wall of the cell. He hadn't thought about the events in Arendelle too much since the beginning of the voyage; that was when the reminders of his failure had plagued him the most. The thoughts seemed to dissipate the farther they sailed away from that miserable place, and he liked it that way. Hopefully he'd return home, receive his slap on the wrist and hide out until his brothers got bored of tormenting him over his failings.

The hard part, however, would be looking his father in the eyes, especially after his instructions to Hans over what he would do in Arendelle seemed sincere, heartfelt, even. He hated that once again he was a disappointment. Something he had a hard time wrapping his brain around was that a lot of his actions in Arendelle were to keep word of his disgrace from getting back to the king in the first place, and yet it didn't end up mattering anyway. At least before, it would have been that he couldn't woo the queen. Now it was not only that, but that he tried to murder her and take her throne as well.

Not to mention getting engaged to the princess and leaving her for dead.

He could hear yelling from the crew, instructions to port. They were home, and he would really have to face the music, now. He stood, stretching as best he could in the small living quarter. He was just relieved that he could leave the ship finally, even if the circumstances were less than ideal.

A guard approached the cell, keys in hand.

"Home already?" Hans attempted to joke, his voice cracking and low from lack of use. The guard raised an eyebrow, his face unamused.

"We're about to port. I'm to take you straight to your chamber to clean up before you face the King for your sentencing," the guard said matter-of-factly. Hans was thankful he would be able to shave the monstrosity of a beard off before he had to face his father, at least he wouldn't _look_ like a prisoner.

_ Or smell like one, for that matter._

"Oh, goody. Do I get supper before or after the sentencing?" Hans quipped arrogantly. The guard didn't entertain the comment with a response, rolling his eyes and unlocking the door. It creaked open, and Hans began out, grabbing his admiral jacket.

"Not so fast," the guard said happily, stopping Hans in his tracks. He held up the metal shackles that Hans had hoped he'd never see again in his life.

"Are those really necessary?" Hans asked meekly, embarrassed at the idea of trekking from the ship to the castle, through the town with everyone watching. The guard answered with a cuff tightly locked around one of Hans' wrists, then the other.

"Probably not," the guard shrugged. "But you never know, with a dangerous criminal like you…" Hans gave the guard a dirty, displeased look and the guard shoved him forward. "After you, _your majesty_."

* * *

Hans stood in his bedroom chamber, heavily guarded of course. He didn't even care that he didn't get any privacy, the sheer happiness he felt from a clean shave was enough to endure the stares of the guards. He wiped his freshly shaved face off with a hot rag, so elated to be rid of the beard. He'd even gone as far as to shave off most of his sideburns as well, simply because the freeing feeling of nothing on his face made him feel human again, refined.

He bathed, changed, slicking back his still-damp hair and relishing in the comforting, delightful feeling of clean clothes. He was actually happier to be home than he'd expected, perhaps it would not be as bad as he'd thought. In fact, with years of torment, how could it possibly be any worse? He hadn't gotten to the hard part yet, but as soon as he faced the king he could begin to move past this little setback.

"Time to go," one of the guards instructed, walking towards Hans to recuff him. Hans backed up slowly.

"I am in my own home," he said quietly. "I insist you don't cuff me, we are only walking down the hallway."

"King's orders," the guard said back, in a way that was slightly sympathetic, as if to say '_just doin' my job, kid_.' But King's orders? His father insisted on him being cuffed? He must be taking the news worse than he thought. He gulped, nodding, placing his hands out in front of himself without further protest.

Together, the guards and Hans ventured out into the hallway, the corridor looking longer than ever. Wait staff walked by, butlers watching him as he walked, he looked towards the parlor and noticed a black cloth shrouding the family portrait that usually hung over the fireplace. As a matter of fact, Hans couldn't help but notice the castle help they had passed were all draped in black, the guards included. This was quite a change from their usually green and golden attire.

"What's going on?" Hans asked aloud, one of the guards looked back over his shoulder at him, wordlessly. They passed another sitting room where he noticed his sister in law, Princess Adelaide whom was married to his brother Felix, crying into a handkerchief with a nursemaid on the sofa. Her puffy, sad eyes looked up at Hans for a brief moment before she broke into sobs once more. Hans felt instantly worried. "H-hey, I demand you answer me!" Hans insisted. They entered the throne room, where his brothers all stood lining the walkway. Hans looked at his feet, refusing to make eye contact with them.

The throne sat empty.

The guard led Hans to the foot of the throne, pushing him down to his knees roughly. His heart began to race, his palms becoming sweaty. From the door beside the throne walked Elias III, Hans' eldest brother. He slowly approached, standing between Hans and the throne.

"I've just read the charges," Elias spoke, shaking his head. "Treason. Conspiracy of murder. Fraud. Quite a list you wracked up over there, _Hansy_." Hans flinched at the less than endearing nickname. It was what his mother would call him out of love, but his brother's had adopted when mocking or teasing him. He refused to look at his brother, seething below him.

"I want to talk to the King," Hans said defiantly. Elias reached down and grabbed Hans' face with his gloved hand, forcing him to look at him.

"Oh, Hans," he cooed. "You already are."

Hans' eyes widened as he looked around the room, portraits of the king shrouded, his brothers all in black, their eyes tired and sad. Hans tried to stand, but Elias shoved him back down, turning and walking to the throne to sit.

"Where is he? Where is father?" Hans said, becoming distressed.

"Father passed away this morning," Elias said, somberly. He sat tall, more regal than Hans had ever seen him before. His black hair was slicked back, his nicely trimmed goatee and mustache groomed to perfection under his cat-like, green eyes. "I am just grateful he passed away before he had to hear what an utter failure you are," he spoke coldly. Hans felt involuntary tears forming in his eyes, wiping them away quickly with his sleeve. The last thing he wanted was to see his brothers get the satisfaction of watching him cry.

"I want to say goodbye," Hans spoke out. Elias scoffed. "I demand to see him."

"You will demand _nothing_," he shouted. "Do you understand what a mess you've made? You've soiled our namesake, our kingdom! Arendelle has cut us off, they refuse to do trade with us any longer. Our kingdom will now suffer because of you and your antics, you will not demand _anything_ from me."

"What were you thinking?" Prince Edvard asked, clutching his rosary, his voice more soft spoken and caring than that of most of his brothers; Hans had always preferred Edvard, as years of religious conditioning had made him softer and more loving than the rest.

"Hansy? _Thinking_? Ha!" Prince Sedak spat, hiding behind his long, dark hair and black eyes. "Now, there's a laugh," he growled. Hans could hear some of his brothers snickering.

"Silence!" Elias bellowed, the brothers all standing at full attention once more. His eyes fell back upon Hans. "What do you have to say for yourself, Hans?" he asked. "Why should I spare you the punishment as suggested by Queen Elsa?"

"Wh-what…did she suggest?" Hans asked curiously, nervously.

"Death, of course," Elias said nonchalantly, after all, it wasn't _his_ life hanging in the balance.

"Surely, you cannot kill me," Hans laughed nervously. Elias simply stared back at him, an eyebrow slowly raising. "You can't kill me!" Hans reiterated, more desperately. "You weren't there, none of you were there!" he shouted. "The storm was killing the villagers, the castle was on the verge of collapse, something needed to be done!"

"And the part where you left the princess to die?" Elias asked. Hans winced; he had hoped that wouldn't come up.

"That was…_personal_," he swallowed, hard, remembering her cold, terrified body clinging to life as he simply stepped over her. He shook the thought off immediately. "Elsa had frozen her heart and she needed her true love's kiss to save her. I am not her true love, therefore my hands were tied. It's not against the law to _not_ love someone, is it?" Hans asked, earnestly.

"No, you're right," Elias began. "It is not against the law to be a disgusting, deplorable human being." Hans bowed his head, unsure of what to say to that. "It is, however, against the law to conspire murder, fraud fellow dignitaries and kingdoms, attempt to assassinate a neighboring kingdom's ruler…" he began to list once more.

"Those are all crimes against Arendelle, and they sentenced me to be exiled from their kingdom. I have done nothing wrong in the eyes of the law in the Southern Isles, have I?" Hans mused, hoping he'd figured out a loophole.

"Well, that depends. When you went to Arendelle, our kingdom's name was resting upon you. You made us look like monsters, you didn't have our best interest in mind, and you severed our relationship with our most important trade partner…I think I would classify that as treason against our own crown, wouldn't you say?" Hans said nothing, scowling at his pompous brother before him. "And what is the sentence for treason?" he paused, watching the indigent look in Hans' eyes switch to fear.

"I didn't act alone!" Hans yelled, franticly. "This was Lars' plan, which I executed…_badly_. But I did not act alone, it wasn't how things were supposed to go! I was coerced," Hans insisted, trying to wriggle free of his shackles. Guards hurried towards him, holding him down as he struggled. The new King Elias rose, walking towards him menacingly. His cold, angry eyes peered down at Hans.

"You have been an ugly smudge on our namesake from the moment you were born of that _commoner_. I have no qualms of ridding this world of you, right here and now," Elias spat, hardheartedly.

"Elias!" Prince Edvard yelled out in disgust. "He is our _brother_!" Hans shot a thankful look in the holy man's direction, but Edvard did not avert his pleading eyes from the King. At least for once in his life someone stood up for him. Elias never took his eyes from Hans' as he backed up towards the throne once more.

"_Please_," Hans pleaded to his brother. Elias cleared his throat.

"You are to be placed on house arrest until the trial, then we can prepare a more fitting sentencing," Elias announced.

"Trial?"

"Yes, a trial. You are to go on trial for your crimes against the Southern Isles, to take place when our witnesses arrive. Meanwhile, if what you say is true, we are sending men scouting for Lars. If he had something to do with this, he will serve his sentence as well."

"Witnesses?" Hans asked, echoing his brother.

"Yes, we are to request that those involved in the Arendelle debacle attend, although I highly doubt anyone from Arendelle will come after all _you've_ done." He motioned for the guards to unshackle him. Hans brought his hand to his wrist, rubbing where the shackles had irritated the skin. "In the meantime, you will are restricted to the castle grounds, as well as attending to various chores and duties around the palace. You will work from morning until dusk, without leisure. You are forbidden to ride Sitron or any of the other horses," Hans listened quietly and unchallenging at his brother's orders. "And I certainly wouldn't plan on running, if I were you," King Elias warned.

"I-" Hans opened his mouth to speak, to say anything in his own defense. He looked around the room at all of his brother's disapproving glances and decided he'd better not. "Thank you, your majesty," he said, defeated.

"You're dismissed."

* * *

Hans stood with the rest of his eleven remaining brothers in the castle cemetery. As if he wasn't morose enough, the usually bright, sunny Southern Isles was cold and wet today, raining down upon them.

_ How fitting_.

They stood together, unified in a way they had never been before, watching their father's royal casket lower into the damp, cool ground. Elias was right; at least the king had died without having to hear of his mess. But Hans was devastated; his father had died before he got a chance to prove that he was worth anything.

Prince Edvard led the brothers in prayer.

Hans hadn't even noticed that a tear had escaped from his eye, hidden by the drizzling rain. Hans couldn't help but hope that one day he would be redeemed, one day he could make his father proud, wherever he was now.

_ Ashes to ashes, dust to dust._

Hans realized that he was now a social pariah, the guests at the funeral avoiding him like the plague. He turned as the groundskeeper began shoveling dark, wet dirt upon the casket, passing through the neighboring dignitaries that had made it in time for the funeral, some of which whispered to one another, pointing at Hans.

'_That's him, that's the son that went to Arendelle_,' they seemed to say, with the wide eyes and gasps coming from the person they'd whispered to.

The only person who'd even talked to him informally since he came home was Edvard, whom he assumed felt it was his Godly duty to bring Hans back from the darkness. He had to admit it felt nice talking to someone, however. But any time Edvard tried to steer the conversation towards Arendelle, towards redemption, Hans wavered and ultimately found another task he should be doing instead.

He never realized how much the servants really did around the palace, and there was always so much more to be done. He'd done the laundry, he'd cleaned in the kitchen, he'd cleaned the stables. Helping with the castle duties gave him a lot of time to think, to reflect back on the occurrences. The busy work was actually a nice change; his days before used to consist of reading, lessons, getting lost with Sitron. At least now he could go to bed each night with a feeling of accomplishment.

Hans tracked mud into the castle behind him, only noticing after he was a few yards in. He sighed, surely he would be mopping it up and cleaning the rugs. He couldn't ask any of the servants to do it; Elias had given them full control over Hans and he had to do everything for himself now. He no longer had the rights of a prince, not until his name was cleared once more. He thought back on his punishment for the time being, relieved that Elias hadn't killed him.

_ Would he have really done that?_

Hans wasn't sure.

He walked into the portrait room, a fire burning nicely in the corner. Dusk had fallen, the room was dark, save for that blistering fire. He removed his coat and his filthy, mud covered riding boots.

_ What's the point of riding boots when you can't ride_.

He wanted nothing more than to dress Sitron and ride off as far as he could, escape the sadness. Arendelle was supposed to change everything, and although so much had happened, it changed nothing. He was still utterly, desperately alone.

Hans walked toward his favorite spot in the whole castle, the bench seat in the window. He hadn't sat in that spot for so long, he was instantly overcome with nostalgia. Like old times, he glanced over to the Arendelle portrait, the two young princesses staring back at him. It wasn't the same as it used to be, their vacant, stony expressions so different than he remembered before.

The sun had set over the trees, painting the room and all its surroundings blue. The popping and crackling of the fireplace serenaded him, and let off just enough glow that he could clearly see the parchment paper in front of him as he began to pen another letter of apology to Arendelle; it would be his third in the short couple of days he'd been home. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would encourage them to change their mind about trade and hopefully help drop the charges against him from his own kingdom.

_ Wishful thinking_, he thought to himself. He knew there was no way he would ever hear from or see Anna or Elsa again. But it didn't hurt to try.

_ Was_ he really sorry? He wasn't sure. It was something he'd played around with in his mind for the couple days since he'd been home.

Would he have done things differently?

_ Absolutely_.

Was he still heartbroken?

_ No, most assuredly not. _

* * *

**_ Three Months Later…_**

"Hansy! Pass me that pot," Marguerite, the head of the kitchen servants insisted; her cheery, round face was pink and flushed from running around the kitchen as usual. Hans reached above her, much higher than she could reach even on her tiptoes, to fetch the deep, metal pot. He lowered it down to her, placing it gingerly in her awaiting hands. "Oh, thank you dearie," she cooed, reaching up and pinching his cheek. He smirked, then realized quickly that he needed to pull the bird from the oven.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Something's burning," he called out, and sure enough, he pulled the hen from the oven to see it more than lightly singed. Marguerite peered over her shoulder at him, flattening dough with her bare hands.

"You'll get it next time, Hansy. I am sure of it!" she feigned comfort, giggling to herself again. Kitchen duty was Hans' favorite duty to have, simply because he loved spending time with Marguerite. She was short, plump and cheery, but mostly she was motherly, and she doted upon Hans in a way he'd never experienced before. She had been the head of the kitchen staff for as long as Hans could remember, but he'd never taken the time to get to know her until beginning kitchen duty. In fact, he never realized just how many friends he could have made through the years from servants alone if he would have just taken the time to get to know them.

"But it's-" he paused, studying the overcooked bird. "It's still edible, right? I mean, you'd eat that, right?" he tried to garner up some sympathy. Marguerite glanced at it again, nodding happily.

"It's a lovely bird, dear," she attempted, wrinkling her button nose at him. Her eyes grew big, as they usually did when she remembered something. "Oh, do tell me, have you heard back from Arendelle?" she asked, referring to the letters. Hans couldn't believe that it had already been three months since he returned home, nonetheless that they weren't even close to arranging a trial. For all he knew, he would be part of the wait staff for the rest of his life at this rate.

"No, nothing," he sighed, although he hadn't expected a response anyway.

"Such a shame," she said sadly, beating the dough with her fists. "You've sent so many letters." Hans leaned in, whispering in her ear.

"Well, Marguerite, when you try to kill a queen of a neighboring kingdom and take her throne, they tend to avoid you afterwards." She smacked him in the stomach, laughing at his candidness. He couldn't help it, he laughed a little too. To be honest, this simpler, humbler life not as bad as he thought it was going to be.

Suddenly, two guards entered the kitchen, looking serious as usual.

"Prince Hans," one called out. Hans was taken aback, he hadn't been called by his royal title in quite some time. Hans stared at them, wiping his dirtied hands on his apron.

"Yes?" he asked.

"The king would like a word with you. Several, actually," the other guard informed him.

"He usually does," Hans sighed, taking his apron off and handing it to Marguerite. "I'll be back," he told her, before hurrying off with the guards.

When the made it to the privacy of the hallway, Hans took a deep breath.

"Hurry along, your majesty," the guard said.

"Do you know what this is about?" he asked. As usual, they didn't answer him, just led him forward towards the royal throne room.

He entered to see King Elias upon his throne, talking to a messenger. He held a long piece of parchment paper with a seal he recognized as Arendelle's at the bottom. His stomach dropped; it was a response.

"Prince Hans," his brother called out to him, Hans bowed, humbly.

"Your majesty." It still bothered him that he had to address his brother in such a way, but he was beginning to get used to it. In the time since he'd gotten home, he'd really not spoken much more to the new king; he hoped that Elias would just forget about him and the trial eventually.

"We have some news from Arendelle," he announced, his deep voice echoing off the palace walls. Hans wrang his hands, slightly nervous.

"And?" he asked.

"They've captured Lars," the King informed him. Hans let out a sigh of instant relief. Perhaps now the heat would fall onto Lars, who'd abandoned his duties after trying to coerce Hans into taking the crown, perhaps now his name would be cleared.

"That's great…I think," Hans said. The King nodded. "Since Arendelle severed trade ties with not only us but also Weselton, their economy is flailing. They have arranged to send not only Lars home to receive his sentence, but a royal diplomat to discuss trade."

"That's wonderful! So they are forgiving the Southern Isles then? Does that mean that I am no longer being tried for treason?" Hans asked hopefully. Elias smirked.

"I have to say, it's been wonderful watching you cavort with the wait staff, running around and serving us like the commoner you truly are," he began, rolling the parchment paper in his hands. "But, unfortunately for you, the Princess also agreed to come and testify as a witness for your trial."

Hans' mouth and stomach dropped.

"Wh-what?" he asked, utterly sickened. His knees felt weak.

"She wants to see that justice is served."

"But-but…I'm being punished. I'm serving my time!" Hans declared.

"Apparently, the Queen and the Princess think we've been too lenient on you. They are insisting on real time in the prison, or no trade. So, Princess Anna of Arendelle will be here in a fortnight to see to it." Hans felt like he'd been hit by a ton of bricks; as if those women hadn't destroyed his life enough! Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone?

"I-I..." Hans stammered, visibly upset by this new turn of events. Elias looked up from his letter.

"Oh. You're dismissed."


	9. The Good Doctor

**Chapter 8:**

_The Good Doctor  
_

**A/N: Special thanks to those of you that are reading and reviewing, it really helps the creative process knowing someone actually reads/cares! Hope you're enjoying.**

* * *

He'd found the whole thing to be _quite_ unnecessary, but when given choice between cleaning the stables or seeing a doctor to talk about your _feelings_, one tends to choose the latter. Although, since riding Sitron was out of the question, Hans didn't mind visiting the stables now and then to steal some time with his only true companion. Either way, Prince Hans' time with Dr. Svedsen was a break from his chores around the castle, and one of the only times he got to dress and act as a prince again.

Since he'd been home, King Elias demanded that Hans have two sessions per week with the psychologist. He'd come to enjoy his time with Dr. Svedsen, although he spent a great deal of the time lamenting about his childhood and reworking everything that had happened in Arendelle to _his_ convenience. Dr. Svedsen, however, seemed happy to see that Hans sincerely enjoyed helping with the duties around the castle; he said it was 'character building.'

Hans started to see his visits with the good doctor as a way to exercise his demons, and in part it had become a bit of a game. Within the first few visits, he'd thought he'd successfully duped the doctor into believing that he was a victim in the matter, only to figure out that the doctor was much smarter than Hans had given him credit for.

Today was an especially important session; the ship from Arendelle was supposed to port any moment now, and Hans was all over the place in terms of how he felt about the whole thing. Lars was returning, most likely to be taken straight to the dungeon to await the trial, and Princess Anna had laid out some pretty ironclad stipulations to accompany her on her visit.

At this point, Hans wasn't even sure if he would see the scorned princess, let alone talk to her. She demanded that she stay in an entirely separate wing of the castle and receive absolutely no contact from both Lars _or_ Hans. Naturally, King Elias obliged.

_ Fine by me_, Hans thought to himself. Although, he was more than well aware that her testimony very well could seal his fate. In any other instance, he would apologize and charm her, get her to see things from his perspective. He knew it was a lost cause, but then again, even with everything Arendelle had thrown at him, he had still come incredibly close to usurping the throne. It was a testament to what he was truly capable of when he put his mind to it.

Hans sat up straight on the green, velvet sofa in the parlor. His posture was impeccable, his head held high. He smiled politely, his gloved hands clasped in his lap. The autumn sun shined brightly and warmly through the draped window nearby, painting the room with its yellow light and specks of dust floating around the room, caught in its rays. The chamber door creaked open, and in walked Dr. Svedsen, silently.

"Good morning, Dr. Svedsen," Hans greeted through perfectly aligned, white teeth. The aging doctor, much shorter in stature, peered at Hans through his metal framed glasses, juggling the papers in his hands in front of him. He adjusted his grey tie, then his golden-buttoned vest, before sitting at the grand, mahogany desk a few feet away.

"Good day, Prince Hans," he greeted with a slight sigh. "And which Prince Hans is with us here today?" he asked skeptically. Hans' eyes widened, his mouth agape. He shook his head and furrowed his brow.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking me," he uttered innocently, looking quite puzzled. Dr. Svedsen narrowed his eyes before jotting a few notes down on the papers upon his desk. Hans fidgeted with his hands, glancing around the room nervously.

"You seem anxious," Dr. Svedsen observed, Hans shrugged lightly. "Care to share how you're feeling today?" Hans opened his mouth to speak, but closed it once more, his face deep in thought. Dr. Svedsen simply looked on patiently, awaiting Hans' response.

"I don't… really understand why I have to be here," Hans finally spoke, slowly.

"I believe you _do_ know why you have to be here, Prince Hans."

"King's orders," he sighed, acknowledgingly. Dr. Svedsen removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes, slightly agitated.

"You know that's not the _only_ reason you're here, Master Westergaard." He put his glasses back on and folded his hands upon his desk, staring at Hans with his beady, black eyes. "You have to accept responsibility for your actions, as well as find the _cause_ of your actions in the first place. You're here because you need guidance. You're here because you need help," Dr. Svedsen explained, although the tired tone of his voice would suggest that he'd told him this many times already.

"But, I _am_ responsible. I truly regret how things happened in Arendelle. I tried to save the kingdom, I really did. I was desperate, I needed to end the winter before we all died," Hans explained, urgency and sorrow riddling his words. The act wasn't working, and Svedsen was not accommodating of the theatrics today. The doctor kept his face and composure calm.

"We both know that is not the whole truth. You are reverting back to your original story, which is a pity considering how much progress we've made these last few sessions." Hans' innocent, earnest face transformed before the doctor. The prince's eyes darkened, narrowed, his mouth turning up into a wry smile.

"Touché," he purred. He leaned back, stretched, his demeanor relaxing. "How many more of these sessions do we need, anyway?" he sighed, his tone now flat and bored. He crossed an ankle over his knee, extending an arm across he back of the sofa.

"As many as it takes."

"And what's the prognosis, doc?" Hans said, his smile vastly inappropriate for such subject matter. "Do you deem me mad?"

"You, my son, are a narcissist," the doctor said matter-of-factly. Hans rolled his eyes, scoffed.

"Oh, _please_."

"You suffer from a hero complex, illusions of grandeur, possible split personality disorder…" he began to list. Hans even looked slightly offended.

"Anything _good_ on that paper?" he asked, frustrated.

"Not that I blame you, _per se_. It would suggest from your stories of your childhood that you were conditioned to be this way, a victim of circumstance."

"Sounds like you're letting me off the hook a little, there," Hans grinned, his tone lightening up.

"Oh, no, no, no. You see, you may be a victim of poor parenting, but that does not excuse your actions. Therein lies the problem. You _alone_ must take responsibility for your actions." Dr. Svedsen paused, studying Hans from his seat. "I understand the princess arrives today?" he ventured. Hans' smug smile dissipated, his face falling to stone, unreadable.

"That's what they are saying," Hans said curtly, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"Tell me about what happened with Princess Anna in the library," the doctor requested. Hans shook his head, chuckling nervously, although there was no humor. He waved his hand dismissively.

"I already told you that-" he began.

"I'd like to hear it again," the doctor insisted, sternly this time. Hans clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. Dr. Svedsen began to write on the paper once more.

"_Alright_," he hissed. "Just…stop doing that. It's distracting." Hans straightened his jacket, Dr. Svedsen set the quill down. Once again, he folded his hands nicely in front of him upon the desk, leaning in and trying to suggest an open, receptive body posture. Hans took in a sharp, staggered breath. "The Princess had been gone for some time. When we went to Elsa's castle on the North Mountain, she was nowhere to be found. Last I knew she was off with a strange man, trying to find her sister," he sputtered off.

"You're deflecting," Dr. Svedsen observed aloud. "Tell me about what _happened_ when she entered the library," he reiterated. Hans' head bowed as he remembered. He zoned out, recalling the memory as he described it out loud.

"She came in weak… frantic." He paused, visualizing the moment. Sadness drenched his words, and yet as he spoke he felt nothing.

_ Odd_.

"Go on…"

"She threw herself at me, said Elsa froze her heart and she needed me to kiss her."

"Why didn't you accept her request?" the doctor asked. "Were you angry at her?"

"Yes," Hans said quickly coming back down to earth. "_Of course _I was. She was off cavorting around with some strange man, one she ended up with a mere two days after our engagement, I'll have you know-" he began rambling.

"Then did you refuse to kiss her as a punishment for _inadvertently_ hurting you?"

"Who's side are you on?" Hans asked, beginning to squirm under the doctor's relentless questioning.

"I'm not on any sides, Prince Hans. You know that," the doctor assured.

"She was going to leave me anyways, be it through death or through running off with another man."

"If you had accepted her kiss in the library, do you think she would have ended up with the other man?" the doctor asked. Hans stared into thin air, mulling over that thought.

"I think…" he began, trying to find the right words. "I think that my kiss would have been of no use to her." The words actually stung a bit, coming out.

"I think that your compulsive fear of rejection caused you to reject _her_ before she could reject _you_."

"I don't agree," Hans said quietly. "And anyway, she never would have forgiven me for what I was going to do to the Queen."

"Forgiveness is a very powerful thing, your majesty," Svedsen explained. "Forgiveness, ultimately, is more for you than it is for the other person. One cannot carry burden upon their heart without it showing through the cracks of their character. I doubt the Princess meant to hurt you on purpose."

"She said nothing happened with Kristoff," Hans said quietly, more to himself than to the doctor.

"It sounds like a lot of your actions with Princess Anna were a result of a very simple, very preventable misunderstanding."

"Among other things."

Silence. Then…

"I am to understand that you are not going to be seeing Princess Anna while she's here?"

"She won't see me, no."

"Your homework, Prince Hans, is to ask the Princess for forgiveness."

"I have," Hans exclaimed, shaking his head. "I've sent multiple letters to Anna _and_ Elsa. They've never responded."

"No, you must ask her in person. There is a difference between hiding behind words and paper as opposed to asking for forgiveness in the flesh. It means more, it's much harder."

"And forbidden. If Elias finds out I breeched my parole to see her I will be stripped of my title for sure.'

"Then I guess you must decide if redemption is worth the sacrifice for you," Svedsen deduced. He looked down at his papers, writing down a few more sentences. He looked up at Hans through the glass of his spectacles. "You're resourceful when it suits you, you'll find a way."

* * *

The session with Dr. Svedsen left Hans' brain swimming. Usually, he had no problem chatting with the doctor, but today's was especially hard to stomach, with the arrival of Anna and Lars. He paced the corridor in front of the dining hall, biding his time until kitchen duty was to begin.

How was he supposed to ask Anna for forgiveness when she refused to see him? Worse, how was he supposed to gain her favor when it was forbidden? He wasn't about to risk his last shred of freedom and dignity to grovel to the harlot. He might have felt remorse for the way everything panned out in Arendelle, but his crippling failure and soiled name was punishment enough, let alone having to _apologize, _which he'd already tried to do.

_ Multiple times._

Hans continued to stroke his ever-growing pride, and then he heard the shouting.

"This way!" a uniformed guard yelled, escorting another man down the corridor quickly. Hans recognized the man as the royal doctor, but not Svedsen. It was Dr. Roahl, the doctor that had assisted to the brothers and the royal family anytime they had fallen ill. He watched the men hurry past, wondering if his brothers were all in good health.

Another two guards followed, Hans grabbed one by the arm as he hurried by.

"Is everything alright? Is something wrong?" Hans asked, confused. The guard looked around nervously, reluctant to answer. "Are my brothers well?" he asked, the panic in his voice increasing.

"I am not at liberty to tell anyone," he said sternly, eying Hans up and down. "Especially you," he added, before turning and running after the others. Hans was confused, but he knew it was time to report to the kitchen, so he figured he could ask Marguerite if she knew what had the guards in such an upheaval.

When he entered the kitchen, the staff was equally shaken. He watched them scurry around the kitchen, pulling out various ingredients well before lunch. He noticed Marguerite in the middle of it all, rambling off instructions to the kitchen staff.

"What is going on around here? Did I miss something?" Hans asked, grabbing the stout woman by the shoulders and turning her towards him. She blew a loose lock of hair back from her eyes, patting him on the stomach lovingly.

"Just trying to put together some stew," she smiled through her panicked eyes. "I'll save you some, you need to eat!" she insisted. "Hansy, dearie," she began, taking a deep breath, "you're not going to be needed on kitchen duty today. I am relieving you." Hans shook his head.

"But why?" he asked again. "Someone needs to tell me what is happening this instant!" he demanded, feeling like a prince again. The staff quieted, Marguerite approaching calmly.

"Princess Anna has arrived," she said quietly. Hans rolled his eyes.

"Well, I am well aware that she was arriving today, there's no need to-"

"I'm afraid she's very ill," Marguerite interrupted. Hans stopped speaking, unsure of how to respond to that.

"What is her ailment?" he asked.

"They aren't sure, she fell ill towards the end of the voyage and they have been unable to break her fever, she's hardly conscious," Marguerite said, tears in her eyes. Hans knew that she didn't _know_ the princess, aside what he'd told her, but ever the bleeding heart, Marguerite couldn't keep the tears from falling when she would hear an emotional story. When Hans told her the story about his mother passing away, she'd cried for two hours straight. Hans cleared his throat, waving his hand at her.

"She's tough; I mean, if she can survive a frozen heart-" he began, detached.

"They don't think she'd going to make it, Hans," Marguerite clarified sadly.

That was it? No redemption? No forgiveness? Sure, even moments ago he would have rather beg for mercy than beg for forgiveness of the young princess, but now that the choice was being taken from him? Hans never liked being told No. He turned back to Marguerite, more eager.

"Where are they keeping her?" he asked, his voice low as to not alert the rest of the kitchen staff. Marguerite turned from him, shaking her head.

"Ohhhh, no. I can't tell you, sire. Strict orders-" He interrupted her sentence, turning her back towards him, staring sadly at her with his deep green eyes, pleading. "No, Hans! I can't tell you. It will be my neck _and_ yours!" she whispered harshly.

"Marguerite, this might by my only chance to apologize for what I did to her," Hans spoke slowly, strongly. "I would never tell anyone you told me. If I am caught, I will take sole responsibility for my actions."

"Hans…" she warned.

"_Please_, Marguerite. I-I…I didn't even know how important this would be to me until I realized that I might not ever get another chance." He stared intensely at her, and she reciprocated. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Quietly, subtly, she leaned in an whispered:

"She may or may not be resting in the old wing, your mother's old bedroom chamber," she divulged. "But if you tell anyone I told you I will deny it to my death," she added quickly. Hans nodded, placing a loving kiss upon the top of her head.

"Thank you, Marguerite. You're an angel." He turned in a hurry to begin running off.

"Oh, Hansy?" Marguerite called out. He turned walking back towards her as she grinned. "The room is _heavily_ guarded."

"Of course," Hans groaned.

"Well, when a lovely Princess is staying in the same castle as the cad that broke her heart and left her to die, they tend to be well-protected," Marguerite rationalized. Hans narrowed his eyes.

"Very funny." Hans exhaled, leaning against the kitchen block, drumming his fingers across it as he thought. "How am I supposed to get in there?" he asked aloud.

"Well, I have an idea…" Marguerite said happily. "But you're not going to _like_ it…"

* * *

Hans absolutely could not believe he was doing this.

Then again, as Svedsen had said, forgiveness wasn't just for the other person. It was for yourself. And as a narcissist, who did Hans love more than himself?

_ Nobody._

_ …Maybe Sitron._

But these thoughts comforted him as he crouched down, hidden on the bottom rack of the rolling food cart that was on its way to Princess Anna's guestroom. He quietly waited as the unaware servant wheeled the cart down the corridors, whistling an annoying and unfamiliar tune, and hand delivering the one person that was supposed to be nowhere near the princess.

Hans' back ached, his knees stung, and he knew that one quick peek under the tablecloth that dressed the cart would send him straight to the dungeons.

The cart slowly came to a stop.

"I have the soup as requested for Princess Anna," the servant announced to the guards.

"Very well," replied one of the guards, moving to the side. Hans heard the creaking of the chamber door opening, and the cart began to move forward again.

"Set it over there, by the fire so it doesn't get cold," someone instructed. He assumed it was one of the nurses. Sure enough, the cart was wheeled over by the fireplace, the bottom rack that housed a hidden prince instantly becoming quite warm. "Thank you, sir."

Hans could see through a crack in the tablecloth; he watched the servant leave with the door closing quietly behind him. More to the left, he could see a young nurse, wringing out a cloth over the wash basin. Hans could feel the temperature of the cart steadily getting warmer and warmer. He began to sweat, mostly from the heat but slightly from the nerves.

The nurse continued wringing out the cloth, slowly turning and walking towards the bed. She gingerly laid the cloth across Anna's forehead, who moaned in response. Hans couldn't see the princess clearly, as it was quite dark in the room with the curtains closed, save for the light of the fireplace. The same fireplace that was slowly cooking Hans alive.

"Princess Anna, can you hear me?" Another nurse asked. From what Hans could tell, there were only the two. Anna didn't respond.

"Let's allow her rest a while, she is not ready to eat," one of the nurses said to the other. Quietly, both nurses left the room together, just before Hans rolled out from under the cart, gasping for cooler air.

Hans quickly removed his jacket and gloves, relieved to be out from under that blasted food cart. Once he'd collected his breath, Hans took a look around the room. His stomach dropped; he hadn't been in this room for years, not since his mother had died. Everything remained the same; the tapestries she had hand-picked, the chandelier he used to look up at as he lay beside her while she read him his favorite stories. Even in the corner, Hans could see his very own baby bassinet, the same one she used to sing to him in as a baby.

Hans' throat went dry as he recalled the memories, the last memory the most aching of all. He looked towards his mother's large, canopy bed. Princess Anna lay in the middle, looking so small among the pillows and blankets. At first glance, Hans could have even sworn it was Ava.

But it wasn't his beloved mother.

It was just Anna. A girl he thought he'd loved at one point. A girl that held his fate in her hands, even still.

He walked towards her, slowly, very clearly remembering what it was like approaching the very same bed, his mother lying in the same position. He remembered that day like it was very recent, and carried it on his heart every day:

It had been a short, crisp, Autumn day. 8-year-old Hans had spent the earlier portion of that day chasing after his brothers, begging each and every one in one way or another to play with him, anything to keep his mind off of what was happening to his mother.

_ No one did. _

So, he'd spent most of that day at the foot of her bed, reading various books and stories from the library, just awaiting any moments with her where she was coherent. He was in the middle of reading a wonderful story; The story was about a knight that was an outcast, who conquered a dragon that was holding a princess prisoner and in turn became loved by all. Young Hans heard his mother stir.

"Hansy?" she spoke, her voice thin, her eyes remaining closed. He closed the book, crawling up the length of the bed and snuggling up close to her, draping one small arm across her chest.

"I'm here, mama," he whispered. She turned her head towards him, their noses almost touching. Her emerald eyes fluttered open.

"So you are," she sighed back, a small, frail smile breaking across her pale face. He stared lovingly at her freckled face, one he'd gazed at a million of times. He could count every single freckle if he had the time. "Are you being a good boy?" she asked. He nodded

"Mama, when can you get up and play with me?" he asked her, his voice trembling. He already knew the answer to his hopeless inquiry. The doctors had already told the king in front of young Hans days ago; his mother would not be getting up to play again. Her eyes saddened, her eyebrows lowering.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to do that again, Hansy," she spoke, agonizingly. She shushed the devastated prince as he began to weep quietly, tears escaping his large eyes and falling down his round, pink cheeks. "Don't cry, my darling,' she instructed, choking back tears of her own. "There is nothing more I would rather do in this world than play with you," she assured, clutching him to her as tightly as her weakened state would allow.

"I need you here," he said as she smoothed his fiery, amber hair.

"You don't need anybody," she smiled. "You're the strongest, bravest prince I know. And I know twelve princes," she jested. Hans allotted her a miniscule smile among the tears. "You're going to do great things, my son. Important, wonderful things. As long as you keep your heart soft, don't let it harden."

"I don't know what that means," Hans admitted, sheepishly.

"It means…"she paused, swallowing. It was hard for her to speak, she was so tired. "It means don't be like your father or your brothers. Stay kind, be a gentleman. Marry a pretty girl and live happily ever after. Can you do that for me? Can you promise?"

"I promise," Hans sniffled.

"Remember that you aren't like them. Remember that you are special," she instructed.

"I will," he said quietly. He remained on her chest, the tears falling, when he realized that her chest was no longer rising or falling, she was just still. He glanced up at her, she looked as if she had fallen asleep, but even the young prince knew better. He shook her, lightly. "Mama?" he asked. She remained still. "Mother…" he tried again, shaking her harder. He began to gain ferocity as he shook her harder and harder, his panic setting in. "Wake up! Mama, please wake up!" he screamed.

Guards burst through the door, followed closely by Dr. Roahl, who was much younger then. They cast Hans aside, hurrying over to the Queen and trying to revive her, to no avail, in front of Hans' very eyes.

Hans shook away the memory, along with the tears, as he stared at the Princess sleeping in his mother's place, a cool rag draped over her head. He neared the bed, quietly kneeling beside her.

"Els…Elsa…" she murmured. Hans was taken aback, before he realized she was probably having an intense dream from the fever. "Elsa, where…are you…" she mumbled. Hans sighed, he suddenly regretted coming in here at all, she was too sick to talk coherently, let alone forgive him. He began to rise when he felt it, her small, weak hand resting upon his on the bed, skin to skin. She squeezed it gently. "Don't-don't leave me," she said, her eyes remaining closed.

Hans crouched back down, unsure of what he should do. He wanted to slip away, preferably out the window to avoid the guards, but her hand stayed upon his. He knew she wasn't asking _him_ to stay, that would be absurd. But for a brief moment, he remembered what it was like to feel wanted, to feel needed.

Ever so gently, he placed his other hand on top of hers, rubbing it gently.

"I'm here," he whispered. He watched in awe as her lips curled into a comforted, frail smile. Then, slowly, it began to disappear. Her eyebrows crunched together, her eyes never opening.

"Wait…"she mumbled. "Hans?"

Hans was startled by the door opening, the nurses returning to check on the princess. They rounded the corner in time to see Hans crouched down beside the princess, their eyes wide and bewildered.

"You're not supposed to be in here!" one of the nurses said, angrily, the other running to alert the guards. Hans held both hands up in silent surrender.

"_Please_, don't…" he implored, but it was too late.

Three guards rushed Hans, taking a hold of him roughly, and leading him out of Anna's chamber door.


	10. The Scorned Princess

**Chapter 9:**

_The Scorned Princess_

* * *

"You can wait here until the King says otherwise," a tall, burly guard instructed, literally throwing Hans towards the back of a concrete cell, Hans collapsing to all fours and skinning his hands from the impact.

"Could you tell him to hurry? I have dinner plans tonight," Hans spat sarcastically, wiping his hands on his pants and dusting himself off. The guard responded by slamming the iron gate shut.

"And watch that smart mouth of yours if you know what's good for you," he added. Hans stood indignantly.

"Prisoner or not I am still a prince, you will address me with more respect!" Hans yelled after the guard as he sauntered off, ignoring the prince entirely.

_ Great_.

This was exactly the kind of thing he was trying to avoid happening, and so quickly at that. How was he going to explain blatantly breaking his parole to Elias, who seemed to have it out for him anyways.

He rubbed his aching shoulder, kicking himself for even trying to do the right thing, whatever _that_ was.

_Stupid Dr. Svedsen._

He should have just left well enough alone, and now he was in for it from Elias, although he had no idea what could be worse than all the work had already been assigned to him.

"Fancy meeting you here," he heard a familiar and unwelcome voice say from across the way. He glanced out past the bars, and locked up diagonally from him was Lars. He was in rags, a long, thick beard in place of his usually trimmed and pointed goatee.

"Oh, great. It's you," Hans sighed, sarcastically. "Just do yourself a favor and leave me alone. I am not in the mood for you, of all people."

"Is that any way to greet your old friend?" Lars spoke, feigning insult. He smirked like a madman from behind his cell. Hans turned from him, leaning against the bars and trying his best to ignore the old man. "I take it your brother is putting you through the wringer?" Hans remained silent. Lars didn't stop. "I am not surprised; those pesky brothers of yours always had it out for you, didn't they _Hansy?"_

"_Don't_," Hans said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I cannot have you rummaging through my head right now. You've done enough," Hans spat over his shoulder.

"It wasn't me that tried to decapitate a Queen of a neighboring kingdom. It wasn't me that left her sister to die of a frozen heart," Lars sang, chuckling with his cackled voice. He began to cough, loudly and violently.

Hans lay on his cot, pulling the hard and flat pillow allotted to him over his head to drown out the Lars' taunts. He rolled onto his side and tried his best to let sleep overtake him.

* * *

_**One Month Ago... In Arendelle**_

"You're not going, and that is final," Elsa said sternly, her arms folded across her chest. Her words echoed across the throne room, a sudden chill in the temperature becoming noticeable. She could see in Anna's face that it wasn't final, she was going to continue to fight the Queen's words.

"Elsa, would you just listen to me-" Anna asked, frustration painting her face. She was clutching the third plea from the Southern Isles for the Queen and Princess of Arendelle to attend Hans' trial, in person. Elsa had gotten into the habit of throwing them out, but Anna insisted they attend. This wasn't a new argument, and it wasn't going well.

"I have heard enough! There is no way I can support you going to the Southern Isles, not after everything that happened." Elsa could see the hurt in Anna's pleading eyes, and Elsa began calming herself down a bit. She sighed, taking in a deep breath. "I almost lost you-" she said, softer than before.

"But, you didn't lose me." Anna added, sadly, remembering all too clearly how close both of them came to death at Prince Hans' hand. She shook it off quickly. "And someone needs to be there to speak for us and what happened…"

"I am sure he will be punished accordingly, Anna. I sent him home so that he could be their problem, and we could be done with it, so that we could move on."

"How are we supposed to move on when he is still out there? What's stopping him from doing the same thing to another princess?" Her eyes widened when she heard herself, she laughed nervously, "I-I mean kingdom. I meant, what's stopping him from trying to take over another kingdom." Elsa's eyes narrowed, skeptically.

"Something tells me you still have some healing to do."

"What? No. I am so over the whole thing," Anna said coolly, folding her arms. "Wh-why do you say that?" she added, more insecurely.

"Anna…" Elsa groaned.

"What?"

"What is this really about?" Elsa asked, nearing her sister. Her icy eyes were soft, sympathetic. "You can't tell me you actually want to see him again."

"No! I mean, yes. I mean…I don't know," she stammered. She began to pace. "I just have a few very strategically thought out questions I would like to ask him and-"

"Anna, what is the point? The man is insane, he doesn't deserve to be able to explain himself to you, he doesn't deserve redemption-"

"Everyone deserves forgiveness, Elsa. Even someone as awful as Hans." Anna said quietly. Elsa went to speak, but couldn't. She was right on that one, no matter how difficult it was to admit.

"What about Kristoff?" Elsa attempted, trying to coax her to stay.

"Kristoff will understand," Anna said, confidently, dismissively. Elsa bowed her head slightly, glancing down at her hands; light frost began to appear over her palms and fingertips. She clenched her hands into fists, she could hear the faint sound of ice cracking.

"But…what about me then, Anna?" Anna rushed over to her sister, taking her in her arms and pulling her in for a hug.

"You'll be alright, Elsa." She pulled away, looking her sister deeply and lovingly in the eyes. "Love will thaw, remember? Just remember how much I love you and you love me and you will be able to control it while I'm gone."

"I just can't stop thinking about that voyage, about our parents, if something happened to you…" she said, her eyes tearing. Anna had to take a step back from her freezing sister as frost crept across the marble floors of the throne room. Anna shuddered.

"Elsa, jeeze. Don't think about that kinda stuff, okay? I'll only be gone for a few weeks, I'll be back, I promise."

"You cannot promise that your ship won't sink," Elsa said flatly, a small smile on her lips.

"Well, if you'd just freeze the ocean I could walk to the Southern Isles," she teased. Elsa chuckled lightly. "The Southern Isles asked us to come, we deserve to sit in the front row when his sentence is handed down to him. Without us, the trial will fall apart. He'll just be free to do this all over again." Elsa nodded, although she hated agreeing with her sister's logic, especially since deep down she knew there was more than just justice steering her little sister south.

"You're not-" Elsa began, pausing for a moment, reluctant to say anything.

"What?" Anna coaxed.

"You're not just running away because you haven't answered Kristoff yet, are you?" Elsa asked, genuine concern in her voice. Anna smiled, sighing heavily. She wouldn't be addressing that question.

"I leave tomorrow. There is a ship heading down there with Lars aboard and I intend to go with it."

Elsa sighed; she knew there would be no convincing her sister otherwise. She reached out, bringing her sister in for another long, loving hug.

"Promise me you'll come back to me, alright?" she whispered into Anna's ear.

"I promise."

* * *

_**Present day...The Southern Isles**_

"Looks like today's your lucky day," Hans heard a familiar voice say from the other side of the bars, awakening him from his light nap. He opened his eyes to see Elias staring at him disapprovingly, along with Sedak, Magnus and a few guards beside him. Groggily, he began to sit up on his hard, wooden cot.

"Hmpf?" he grumbled.

"I was in the midst of ordering and signing your labor camp release contract, when I received word that I was requested in Princess Anna's chamber," Elias declared, emotionlessly, his arms crossed.

"And?" Hans asked impatiently. He wanted to just get this, whatever it was, over with; if he was off to a labor camp, so be it. He didn't have the fight in him to avoid it any longer, he was tired of being the punching bag anyways around the castle anyways.

"And it would appear she is on the mend."

"Great, that's _fantastic_ news," Hans said, rolling his eyes and laying back down.

"Sit up while I am addressing you!" Elias shouted, his face red.

"Would you just get on with it then?" Hans yelled back, scrambling to his feet. "If you're sending me away, _fine._ I don't care anymore, Elias. I know I had orders not to see her but I was trying to ask for forgiveness, perhaps change her mind about Arendelle's trade boycott. It doesn't matter anyway, when I entered her chamber she was unconscious and incoherent," Hans cried out, passionately.

"She was more coherent than you think," Magnus spoke up. Hans eyed his brother, curiously.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She requested to speak to me to ask if you had visited her while she was ill. She seemed to recall you being in her room beside her at one point." the King disclosed. "I profusely apologized to the Princess for your intrusion, assuring her that you were being deprived a trail, stripped of your title, and shipped off to Corona's coal mines."

"Well, I am sure she was just _thrilled_, then," Hans assumed, slightly seething. "When do I leave?"

"Not so fast," Elias said.

"Looks like the little Princess still has a soft spot for ya," Sedak added, smirking. "She must be a glutton for punishment."

"Quiet, Sedak," Elias ordered, Sedak's sadistic smile disappearing quickly.

"What do you mean?" Hans asked, nearing the bars.

"She requests that you meet with her in her chamber, after you've washed up, of course," Elias sighed, disappointedly. "Such a shame, I was so close to carting you off, letting you be someone _else's_ problem."

"Is that all I am to you? Your problem?" Hans asked through gritted teeth, gripping the steel bars in his hands tightly.

"If the shoe fits, _Hansy_," he sneered. The King motioned for the guards to open the cell door. Hans stepped through beside him, eying him intently. "Either way, the princess and I have arranged an…agreement, should choose to accept it, that is."

"And that is?" he asked suspiciously. Nothing from Elias ever came for free. Elias smiled coldly, gently patting Hans on the cheek. Hans pulled away from him quickly, coming daringly close to pushing the King away physically but controlling himself.

"You'd better count your blessings, Hans. For she is showing you much more mercy than you have showed her." Hans stared past his brothers at Lars, slouched in the back of his cell, watching them intently. Hans glared at him, then glanced back at his brother. "Go change and bathe, and hurry along. She's waiting."

* * *

Hans paced outside of Anna's chamber door, wringing his nervous, shaky hands. He was garnering up the nerve to actually set foot inside, and so far it had taken up a good twenty minutes or so. He didn't know what kind of 'arrangement' Elias and Anna had conjured up, but if it was approved by the cold, calculating king then it couldn't be good.

_ Of course it's not good, you idiot. _

He needed to just do it, get it over with. If the arrangement was too awful, he could always decline and jump on the next ship to the Corona Mines, although he couldn't imagine anything worse than that. Hans Westergaard had never worked a day of hard labor in his life, and he was not about to start now.

He approached the door once more. Hans straightened his tie and smoothed down his hair, and then he quickly knocked three times. He glanced sideways at a guard watching him intently, then back at the wooden door in front of him. He knocked again.

"Princess Anna?" he called out when he'd received no response.

"Wh-who is it?" he heard her familiar but muffled voice chime from the other side. He'd startled her.

"Prince Hans," he answered after a brief hesitation.

_ Silence_.

"I-I was told you requested my presence…?" he added.

"Um…Yes. Yes, please come in," he heard her finally say.

When Hans slowly entered the room, he looked directly towards the bed, where he'd seen her last. He didn't expect her up and about; it had only been a few hours since she'd been laying, near death, in the middle of his mother's huge bed. When he neared the bed, however, he found it empty. He turned around, looking around the large room.

"I'm over here," she said. Hans turned towards the sitting room that adjoined the bedroom chamber, where he saw her.

Although he would never admit it to himself, Anna looked stunning, _especially_ for only barely overcoming a mystery illness. He was slightly taken aback; she stood by the fireplace in a long lavender and white empire wasted gown with silver embroidery, the long sleeves sleekly covering her arms down to a point on her hands. Her hair was no longer in the childish braids she had donned the last time he'd seen her, but down and flowing, gentle waves cascading down her back. Her big, blue-green eyes were still wide and curious, but wiser, even after only a few months.

"Prince Hans," she greeted formally.

"Princess Anna," he reciprocated, bowing slightly.

"Please, won't you have a seat," she offered, extending her arm out gesturing towards the sofa. He could tell she was nervous; to be completely honest with himself, he was quite nervous talking to her as well.

"No thank you, I would prefer to stand if you don't mind," he answered coolly.

"Well, _I'm_ going to sit. I'm still feeling pretty weak," Anna said as she sat gingerly on the sofa, next to her tea tray. She leaned over and began to try to pour herself a cup of tea, her shaking hands causing the porcelain to rattle. Hans watched her from afar, before sighing impatiently.

"Here," he said, walking over to her, carefully taking the teapot from her hand and pouring it for her instead. She watched him carefully, skeptically. He sat the teapot down on the tray. "Sugar?" he asked, curtly.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her eyebrows lowered, confused.

"It's not a term of endearment, I am asking if you would like sugar," Hans clarified, shortly. She nodded, sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, yes please. Two, no cream," she stammered. Hans dropped two sugar cubes into the tea, stirring it quietly. He glanced down in time to see a small, weak smirk appear on her face as she watched him, lost in thought.

"Is something funny?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Who would have thought you'd be pouring my tea after-" she stopped herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Nothing," she said quietly. He sat the teacup in her hands, and although he'd said he'd prefer to stand, Hans took a seat on another sofa directly across from the weak and fragile princess.

"Thank you," she said, although he knew she had no reason to thank him after everything he'd done, after everything they'd been through. Hans' face fell, the sick feeling in his stomach returning.

"Well, it was quite irritating to watch you try to attempt it on your own, so…" he said, the bitterness returning.

"I was _just_ trying to be polite." She shook her head and chuckled to herself in disbelief. "I see you're just as unpleasant as ever." She brought the teacup to her lips. "I'd have this tea checked for poison had I not just watched you pour it with my own eyes." She eyed Hans, who sat across from her casually, cool and collected under her gaze. He smiled wryly, his eyes burning back into her. She squirmed slightly under his watchful eye, breaking eye contact with him to look about the room. The fireplace crackling was the only sound to break the awkward silence.

"I am to understand you and my brother have come up with an arrangement on my behalf?" he finally said, getting down to business and ignoring her previous comments.

"That can wait," she said, setting the teacup back upon the tray beside her. "I have other business to discuss with you first."

"Oh, princess. I love it when you're bossy," he said flatly. She glared back at him.

"Why were you in my room? I had strict orders that you stay away from me, and you breached those orders within only the mere two hours that I had set foot in the Southern Isles. Are you just _trying_ to get yourself deported, now?"

"Dr. Sved-" he stopped himself, deciding not to disclose that he was seeing a shrink, as being designated to work around the palace was embarrassing enough. "I thought it was a good idea to come to you and apologize for my actions in Arendelle," he said, sitting up tall. She placed her hands on her knees, confusion washing over her.

"And what were your actions in Arendelle, Hans? Can you even say them aloud?" His eyes narrowed.

"We both know what happened in Arendelle," he said. She shook her head.

"Well, according to the King, you seem to have an entirely different idea of what happened," Anna said, her voice raising a bit.

"And what details did I get wrong?" he asked, indignantly.

"Let's see, my sister was a monster that needed to be conquered, I was a harlot that left you for a stable boy…and you were the true victim, right Hans?"

"Ah, yes. Where _is_ your boyfriend, anyway?" Hans asked digressing from the subject at hand, his voice dripping in contempt.

_"Fiancé,"_ she corrected, her eyes narrowed and cold. Hans sat before her, unblinking, unmoved. "Anyway, he's in Arendelle. I told him not to come. I needed to do this alone."

"Well, doesn't _that_ sound familiar," Hans snickered.

"It is probably in your best interest that he _didn't_ come, Hans. He's not your biggest fan, and surely he'd just love the opportunity to teach you some manners," Anna said, snottily. Hans chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"Tell him to get in line." Anna shook her head, visibly worked up.

"Never mind, this was a mistake," she said as she got up.

"Yes, it was," Hans mumbled under his breath. He watched with a snide smirk on his face as she turned to walk weakly back towards the bedroom chamber. She'd made it to the doorway before leaning against it, and then collapsing to the floor. Hans' smile disappeared instantly.

"Anna?" Hans called out with more worry in his voice than he would have preferred. He hurried to her side, kneeling down beside her. He couldn't help but notice how much her weakness reminded him of that library in Arendelle.

"Stop," she said breathlessly. "I don't need your help," she insisted. She tried to get up, but it was clear she was too weak.

"Would you quit being so stubborn and let me help you?" Hans said, frustrated at her willfulness. She paused, breathing heavily. She looked up to see him gazing down at her sternly. She finally began to nod wordlessly.

Hans leaned down and scooped the princess up in one swift, seamless motion. She draped a fragile arm around his neck, leaning her head against his shoulder. He stood, carrying her dead weight back into her bedroom and laying her down upon the large canopy bed. He carefully brought the covers up, sitting beside her. He reached his hand up to her forehead; her fever had returned.

"You're burning up," he said quietly, worrisome. She glanced up at him, helplessly, their eyes meeting for far too long for Hans' comfort. He cleared his throat and looked away from her. "I'll go fetch your nurses-" Hans said, standing and turning to leave. He was stopped, however, by a hand weakly grasping onto his. He turned back to see Anna clutching his hand, her face white, her eyes pleading.

"Wait," she said quietly out of breath. He began to interject, but then closed his mouth, doing as he was asked and sitting back down beside her.

"What? What is it?" he asked, unsurely.

"The arrangement," she said. "King Elias and I decided…that you'd take care of me while I am here." Hans' eyes grew two sizes.

"What? Are you insane? What kind of idea is-"

"I am _trying_ to understand Hans," she pleaded. "I have tried since the moment you left to understand you, to understand why you did what you did to me…I mean…to Arendelle," she said, her voice tired and morose. "I thought that maybe if I just got to spend some time with you, it would help me understand."

"I don't think-"

"Please," she breathed. "You _owe_ me."

"I owe you nothing," Hans said coldly. She swallowed hard.

"Fine. Then do it for yourself. You don't belong in a labor yard, Hans."

"What do you care!?" he asked, running an exasperated hand through his hair. Why did it matter that she figure out his motives and get to know him? She should hate him after everything, not be trying to be his best friend. She hadn't changed a bit, she was still a little, naïve girl. He stared at her sad, imploring eyes, shaking his head at her. "You don't even know me."

"Exactly," Anna sighed. She paused, bit her lip, as if to contemplate her next words carefully. "Plus, you're the only face I know here."

"I-" he began. She held her hand up, to stop him from speaking.

"Just…think about it."

Hans nodded, reluctantly. Perhaps there was some kind of hope of redemption, after all.

**a/n**

**Thanks for reading, I'll have Ch. 10 up shortly. Please review!**


	11. Thawing Out

**Chapter 10:**

_Thawing Out_

* * *

Hans had thought long and hard about the arrangement that was proposed by King Elias and Anna; it wasn't _ideal_, but then again neither were the Corona Mines. He just couldn't help but think about her pleading eyes, begging him to stay with her. Part of him, the part that hated himself for letting her freeze to death on the floor of a castle library, felt like he did, in fact, owe it to her. But only for the sake of his own sanity. It wasn't as if anything was going to change. In the end, he had still left her for dead, and she had no reason to forgive him for that.

So, after much deliberating, Hans finally decided to accept the arrangement.

Even still, he had to report to the kitchen staff. However, as soon as he'd told Elias he would agree to be Princess Anna's personal servant, he was relieved from most of his other duties around the castle. He didn't mind kitchen duty, however, as it was still an opportunity to see Marguerite and at this point, he had actually come to enjoy knowing his way around a kitchen. At least now if he was stripped of his title and sent out into the world as a commoner, he wouldn't starve to death.

So the next day, Hans reported to the kitchen as usual, where he began dicing and cutting various vegetables for the upcoming meals that day. Although not all of the princes resided at the castle, there was still a great deal of work to do for meal preparation. Marguerite was her typical, cheery self. She was ecstatic when Hans told her that he would be a personal servant for the princess during her stay.

"I can't believe you get to spend so much time with the princess," Marguerite said, her eyes dreamy and her voice whimsical. "Perhaps you'll fall back in love and get to live happily ever after, eh Hansy?" She nudged him with her elbow, raising her eyebrows suggestively. He smirked and rolled his eyes, trying to pay attention to the celery he was dicing in front of him.

"There is no way in Hades that will be happening, Marg. And anyway, it is technically a punishment, there is nothing to be so excited about," he smiled. "I do, however, believe you should lay off of those romance novels you're so very fond of," he suggested, pointing the knife at her for emphasis. She smiled a wide, toothy grin, bringing her chubby hands to her pink cheeks.

"Oh no, you'll have to pry those books out of my cold, dead hands. They keep me young, my dear," she laughed, handing him a stack of carrots and potatoes to dice. "What's she like?" she asked him, leaning over the counter and propping her head up with her hand. "She's lovely, from what I've seen…" Hans sighed, wishing they could talk about something, _anything_, other than this.

"She's…I don't know," he glanced at her sideways; her awaiting face made it clear that that answer did not satiate her curiosity. He sat down the knife and turned to her. "Alright, if you must know, she _is_ lovely.'

"I _knew_ it!" she squealed.

"But…"

"_But_?" she echoed.

"The woman is _insufferable_," Hans stated.

"Oh yes, you've been saying that since the day you walked in here," Marguerite giggled, waving her hand dismissingly before picking up the knife and starting where Hans had just left off. "But what is she _like_? It's not very often a new princess comes wandering into the castle, not without a marriage certificate in tow."

"I…I am not sure how to describe her. She's… exhausting." He crossed the room, pacing a bit as he thought. "She…she has more passion and conviction in _one_ memory than I have in my entire being. She's optimistic…to a fault. I mean, she was so love-deprived and eager to think good of me that she was willing to marry me after only knowing me for _one day_-"

"Aye. But then again," Marguerite mused, "it would take a strong woman to keep her wits about her with a handsome, wonderful man like _you_ trying to steal her away."

"_Please_," he scoffed. "You're just being kind. I'm not all that much of prize, Marguerite. _Especially_ now. If not a prince, what am I?" He asked, staring off at nothing in particular, the words echoing and taunting his own mind. She set the knife down, hard enough to make a loud _bang_ against the counter and turned to face a puzzled, startled Hans.

"That's _enough_," she said, sternly, her happy face suddenly very cross. She reached up and took the prince's face in her hands, forcing him to look into her small, bright little eyes. "I am done with the self-loathing. Let the king punish you, it's his job. It is not your job to punish yourself. It's time to stop wallowing and get over it. What's done is done, all you can do now is try to be better," she scolded. Hans couldn't help but nod; if there was anyone left in this world he would listen to, it would be Marguerite. "The princess deems you worthy of understanding, you should do the same for her. Give yourself a chance, Hans. You don't deserve to be this miserable the rest of your life, no matter what you've done. Livet er for å leve."

"Wh-what does that mean?" he asked. She smiled brightly, her arms extending outwards, flamboyantly.

"Life is for living."

* * *

_ Livet er for å leve._

_ Life is for living._

The words ran through Hans' head over and over again as he walked towards Princess Anna's room with the food tray. Marguerite was right; he needed to let the past go. If there was any chance of redemption or forgiveness, this was the only chance he was going to get. The princess seemed to want to forgive Hans, although he had to admit, he hadn't been making it very easy for her since she'd been there. He'd broken her orders, he'd insulted her in her bedroom chamber, he'd even initially rejected her gracious proposal to care for her instead of being carted off to Corona. As much as he'd hated to admit it, he had a lot to be thanking her for.

Hans rounded the corner of the corridor, but stopped when he heard quiet mumbling. He stepped back, hidden from view as he saw Dr. Roahl and a nurse talking to Elias outside Anna's chamber door.

"…but will she get better?" he heard Elias ask.

"It is too soon to tell. I would suspect so; it doesn't seem to be worse than a mere flu, but her frailness and relapse has me worried. She needs to rest, garner her strength. I am afraid I cannot give more information than that just yet."

"Thank you, Dr. Roahl. I will alert you if there are any more…complications."

Hans began walking again, catching the sight of the doctor walking towards him, nodded a hello as they passed by one another. The king turned towards Hans, looking just as unwelcoming as usual.

"Hans," he greeted.

"Your highness," Hans greeted back, bowing, but only a little as not to drop the tray.

"I am pleased to see you are taking your punishment seriously," Elias noted, his eyes fixated on the tray of broth, milk, tea and toast. Hans didn't say more, just simply nodded, then walked past the king and continued towards the door of the bedroom. "Try not to upset her like you did yesterday, if you don't mind. I'd rather not have a dead princess on my hands to clean up. Especially knowing what her sister is capable of…" Elias said, crudely. Hans stopped, a shiver running down his spine. He turned back to face Elias.

"I will try my best," he said through gritted teeth, although there were a million other things he'd rather say to his sinister sibling. He instead faced the door, balanced the silver tray on his arm and gently knocked on the wooden door. "Anna? It's Hans…" he said through the barrier.

"Come in," she said, meekly, so much so that he almost missed it. He opened the door and walked in.

The room was much brighter than before, the drapes completely opened and the windows slightly cracked, letting in cold, mid-winter air. Anna rested, comfortably and nestled in the giant bed. The color had returned to her cheeks, and with the light he could see her freckles splashed across her nose. She looked up at him from her book she was reading, her bright eyes shining.

"Good, I'm _starving_," she said in almost a growl, shutting the book with a _pop_ and setting it down on her lap. Hans set the serving tray upon the food cart by the tea, wheeling it over towards the princess. He pulled up a sitting chair and placed it close to the bed before he took a seat beside her. "What are we having?" she said, eying the spread and wringing her hands together.

"Just you," he said, draping a handkerchief across her lap. "And it's broth and toast; you need to be able to keep it down, so the simpler the better." He reached over to hand her the glass of milk, she recoiled a bit.

"Oh…no. No thank you…" she said, her hand stopping the glass from coming anywhere near her face.

"You don't like milk?" he asked puzzled, pulling the glass back towards him, raising one eyebrow.

"_Despise_ it actually, I can't drink it. Unless, of course, you have _chocolate_ milk, then you wouldn't be able to stop me," she said lightly, crinkling her nose and laughing at her own joke. Hans' mouth turned upward; he wanted to smile too, but he refrained. "You know, you can laugh, it won't kill you," she said, rolling her eyes. Hans ignored her, pushing the tray towards her.

"Here. Eat." he said in nearly a grunt, she stared at him.

"Well, aren't _you_ a gentleman."

"You need your strength, you're not going to get better if you don't eat," he said, mechanically. She smirked, folding her arms across her chest in mock defiance.

"I'm actually not supposed to feed myself."

"What," he said flatly. It wasn't a question. He knew right away what she was getting at. "I'm not-"

"You're gonna hafta feed me, Hans," she said with a smug smile painted across her lips. She was loving this.

"No, no. Nope." Hans said, huffily. She remained motionless, staring into his eyes stubbornly. "Absolutely _not_, Anna. You are perfectly capable of lifting a spoon from a bowl to your own face, you don't need me to do it for you."

"Doctor's orders," she shrugged. "You wouldn't want my fever to come back, would you? You're supposed to be taking care of me, remember?" They stared at one another for a moment, and it was increasingly apparent she wasn't going to let this one go, it was too fun for her.

"You've gotta be _kidding_ me," he grumbled under his breath, picking up the spoon. He hesitated, staring at the bowl and shaking his head. If it wasn't so annoying he would find this situation funny, actually.

_ Hilarious_.

"I sure am hungry," she said aloud, her little hands clasped in her lap, waiting. Hans dipped the spoon in the broth and brought it to her lips. She looked down at the steaming spoon.

"_Hansy_…" she said in a bit of a whine. He looked towards the heavens, sighing irritably.

_ God help me._

"What now?" he asked, his patience running thinner by the second.

"Could you blow on it please? I would hate to burn my delicate, royal mouth…" she teased. Hans never took his glare away from her as he brought the spoon to his lips, blowing on the broth to cool it. She smiled triumphantly.

"You just love this, don't you?" he asked, unenthusiastically. She couldn't contain her chuckles at this point.

"You have _no_ idea," she laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. He took the spoon and jammed it in her open mouth, she nearly choked on it. "Hey!" she yelled through coughing.

"Whoops, sorry," Hans said, however clear that he was not sorry at all. Now he smirked to himself.

"Whatever," she said, but her smile indicated she wasn't sore about it. Hans continued to repeat the pattern, blowing on her soup and bringing it to her mouth. "This is pretty good," she finally said after a few bites.

"I'm glad it's to your liking," Hans said, although his tone indicated he couldn't care less. She shrugged a bit.

"I mean, it's not a lobster dinner or anything, but…" she added. She stared off, recounting a memory. "Oh, what I wouldn't give for some Danishes about how," she sighed.

"That's right. I recall your penchant for sweets," he said, thoughtfully. She turned her gaze back to him and smiled, seemingly happy that he remembered.

"Yeah…remember how many we ate at the coronation?" she remembered, laughing a bit to herself. "That should have scared you off right away. It's not healthy."

"Oh well, you only live once, right?" he commented without thinking. He wished he hadn't chosen that particular statement, since her near death was what got him into this mess in the first place. She seemed to think about that too. They both sat in an awkward silence for a moment. "Um…open," he instructed, bringing the spoon back towards her face. She took a bite, sitting back on the pillows and sighing.

"That seems like a lifetime ago," she said aloud, her eyes sheepishly finding his. He shrunk a bit at the thought. For a split second he recalled holding her in his arms, spinning and waltzing her across the crowded dance floor. But as fast as it came, it faded away.

"Yeah, I suppose it does." He lifted the spoon, she shook her head weakly.

"I am good for now," she said, her eyes looking tired. He could tell it was taking a lot out of her to socialize; she suddenly looked exhausted. He moved the tray away, standing and beginning to fluff up her pillows, her large eyes looking up at him intently from below. He brought the satin sheets up, followed by the heavy comforter, tucking her in. "You're good at this," she said. "Like, surprisingly good at this." He paused, looking down at her. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her about his mother, but then again, she was the one that wanted to get to know him.

"Well, it's not my first time," he said after a moment, finding his seat and settling in once more.

"No offense, by the way. You just don't really come across as the nurturing type," clarified. He nodded somberly; he wasn't. "Wh-who was it?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Who did you take care of?" Hans sat back in his chair, taking in a deep breath and staring at the beautiful, inquisitive princess. He fidgeted with his hands a bit, still hesitant to begin this story.

"My mother," he finally spit out quickly, as to not let it linger.

"Oh…I-I'm sorry, I didn't know," Anna said, quietly. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything about that time in his life, but nothing would come out. "You…you don't have to talk about it," she said sweetly, placing her hand on his forearm. He smiled politely, clenching his jaw.

"Would it be weird if I said that I actually kind of want to?" he pondered aloud after a moment.

"No, of course not." She shook her head sympathetically. Anna then settled in, like a child awaiting a bedtime story. Hans leaned in, propping himself up flush against the bed.

"I was little, I think about eight or so, when my mother fell ill. I-" he paused, pulling the memory from a place in his mind he clearly hadn't rummaged through for quite some time. "I remember when it first happened. It was summer…we were playing outside in the courtyard. We had been playing hide and seek. I climbed one of the apple trees, waiting for her to come find me. But…she never did. I finally climbed down after a long time; I searched everywhere for her before I finally found her collapsed by the rose bushes. She never really got back up after that. She was bedridden for months, until she passed away in the fall." Hans said these things so detached, as if it were a story about someone else that he'd recounted a million times. He was surprised when he looked up to see that Anna's eyes had misted over.

"I'm… _so_… sor-"

"Please. _Don't_," Hans said, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. "It was a lifetime ago. I hardly even think of it now."

"It just must have been hard, taking care of her like that," she said sympathetically.

"It wasn't. She had nurses and doctors. I just mostly stuck by her side and doted on her with a lack of anything _else_ to do, it wasn't as if my brothers were playing with me or keeping me company. In a house full of people, all I had was her. And after she was gone, I had no one."

"Oh, you _know_ I know exactly how you feel, what with Elsa and all-" she stopped herself, cleared her throat nervously. "I didn't have anyone, either."

"I know."

"You know…" Anna reached over, placing her hand on his, a weak smile crossing her face. "It _does_ get better, though. If you would just allow yourself to open up to the possibility-" Hans stood abruptly, adjusting the lapels of his coat.

"You should really get some rest, Princess. I will be in to check on you soon," he stated, turning quickly and beginning to walk out of the room.

"Wait!" Anna called after him. He stopped, wishing that he could just disappear already.

"What?" he asked, never turning back towards her.

"_Please_, Hans. I've been in this bedroom for days now. I…I'm restless. I want to get out of here." Hans waited, then he sighed, turning and nearing her once more. He felt bad for her, all cooped up and so far away from home. He wished he could help, but even just being out of bed for a couple of moments the day before caused her to collapse from exhaustion.

"Anna, I think you're too sick for that," he said, recalling the conversation he'd overheard in the hallway with Elias and Dr. Roahl.

"_Hans_-"

"Anna, just rest. I'll see what I can do," he insisted, before turning around and walking out the door, leaving the bewildered princess to wonder if she'd said something wrong.

* * *

Hans walked the corridors aimlessly, biding his time until the Princess had a substantial opportunity to fall asleep. Letting Anna in was harder than Hans had anticipated. He wasn't expecting their exchange to go so well despite the fact that he still found her incredibly irritating and childish.

Although, what he hated to admit was that he _didn't_ hate it. It was kind of nice to have someone to talk to other than Marguerite, Dr. Svedsen, Edvard or some of the other servants. However, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable by Anna's constant need for understanding and coddling him, like he was a fragile child that could snap at any given moment. Everything felt loaded, as if she were just searching for reasons in their interactions and his stories to say 'ah, yes, _that's_ why you did what you did," when in all reality, perhaps he was just an awful person.

Hans turned towards the library. The thought occurred to him that perhaps he could browse the library for a few books to keep Anna entertained while she was bedridden, and hoping to be able to spend some quiet time alone. It was clear, however, when he entered, that was not going to be an option.

Three of his brothers were in the lounge, their eyes peering back at him inquisitively. The first one he noticed was Prince Frederick, although his presence did not surprise him at all. Frederick was a scholar, and he was always in the library. In fact, he would spend days on end in there, browsing the books and reading, organizing and reorganizing over and over again. It was not uncommon to see him asleep on the sitting sofa, a book opened upon his chest, ready to be picked up again and read from where he left off. He stared up at Hans, his dark hair slicked back, his eyes peering out over his spectacles.

Next was Edvard, visiting from the cathedral, cloaked in his typical robes and rosaries. He was reading the bible, of course. He didn't seem put off by Hans' presence, simply glanced up, acknowledged him with a nod and went back to his scripture without so much as a word.

Lastly, however, was Prince Isaak, perhaps the most handsome and infamous of the Southern Isle Princes throughout the Isle Kingdoms. He was tall, incredibly well-read and handsome. He had light, auburn hair like Hans, it was much shorter though. He had a perfectly angled jaw and a clean shave always; in his entire life, Hans had never seen the handsome prince in a disheveled state. Even now, he was in his more casual attire of a wool sweater and riding pants, Isaak still looked the part of a regal leader. He raised his eyebrows, setting down the book he'd been sifting through.

"Oh, Hansy. What brings you to this part of the castle?" he asked, his deep, booming voice echoing. Both Edvard and Frederick glanced at their more obnoxious brother, clearly annoyed at his disturbance. Hans paused before walking over towards a bookshelf, running his fingers along the spines of various books before him. "I see you've escaped from your chores to grace us with your presence," he added, nearing Hans with an ornery grin.

"Oh, just let him _be_," Frederick groaned in Hans' defense, never taking his eyes from the page.

"What, I can't greet my littlest brother?" Isaak asked in mock offense. "So, Hansy, is the Princess still alive or have you off'd her yet?"

"You know, you should really leave the insults to Sedak. He's much better at it," Hans said, turning to his big brother and eying him irritably. "But, then again, you've never been the brains of this group, have you?" he added. Isaak's smile dissipated.

"You really think you have any room to come in here and insult me? You're pathetic. At least I haven't destroyed the Westergaard name with treason and attempted murder," he said, shrugging and beginning to walk off, losing interest.

"No, you've destroyed it in a way only you could, one skirt at a time." That was enough to get Isaak fuming, who hurried back towards Hans, seething.

"How dare you, you little rat. Have you forgotten your place? Because last I checked it was serving me meals and washing my linens."

"That's enough!" Edvard said, uncharacteristically passionate. Both Isaak and Hans looked at the holy man, rising from his wooden bench and clasping his hands together. "This family has suffered enough loss and hate, can't we just act like civilized men?"

"I hardly think Isaak can spell civilized, let alone act it," Hans spat, before realizing quickly that it was a big mistake. In a rage, Isaak leapt forward, his whole body tackling the youngest prince. The two scuffled, punching and ripping at one another, before falling backwards into the bookshelf, toppling it over and sending books lying around the room. This action was enough to get Frederick out of his chair, he and Edvard rushing towards the dueling princes to break it up. They were finally able to pull Hans off of his flailing brother, but not before Hans got some decent swings in at the handsome prince's face.

"You are going to pay for that," Isaak threatened, out of breath and clutching his palm to his left eye; Hans could see the beginnings of a bruise just under it.

"Oh my, Isaak. I seem to have maimed your glorious face," Hans said, equally breathless but feeling victorious. Frederick had to hold Isaak back with all his might to keep the prince from lunging at his mouthy little brother once more. Hans, however, felt like he was on top of the world. Never before had he ever so much as stood up for himself, let alone get in a nice right hook, even though he was quite sure he may have just fractured his hand.

"Get him out of here," Edvard demanded, loudly. Frederick helped Isaak to stand.

"Good luck getting another princess to fall for you with that mug," Hans said under his breath, but loud enough that Isaak glared at him once more.

"Oh I will have no problem with that, little brother. I shall start with _yours_," he glowered. Hans didn't like that comment one bit. Frederick walked Isaak out of the library and into the hallway, leaving Hans to bask in the mess they'd made to mull over that statement.

_ I shall start with yours._

"Why must you antagonize him, so?" Edvard sighed, helping Hans to his feet and dusting the prince off. "Turn the other cheek, Hans. It's what our good Lord asks of us, is it not?" he asked, his voice calming and serene. Hans shrugged.

"I'm just tired of getting pushed around," Hans said quietly. Edvard nodded, slightly sympathetic.

"You'd just better hope he doesn't run off and tattle on you to Elias, you're in enough hot water as it is you know…"

"I know," Hans agreed. Edvard smiled a bit, patting his brother on the shoulder. Hans smiled; it was the first pat on the back he could remember ever receiving, and to have it from a brother, nonetheless. It was short-lived. Edvard's smile weakened as he studied the books sprawled about.

"Now, get this mess cleaned up so we can ice your hand," Edvard said lightly. Hans laughed and agreed, beginning to pick up the books one by one with the hand that didn't ache. It was then that he glanced up and saw it in the corner of the library: an old wooden wheelchair. One that may be perfect for wheeling around a princess that was desperate to get out of her bedroom chamber.

* * *

**Hope ya'll are loving reading it as much as I am loving writing it. xoxo**


	12. Warming Up

**Chapter 11:**

_Warming Up_

* * *

"Ouch!" Hans yelled. His hand was burning; he was entirely certain that at this point it had to be completely broken.

"Oh, _hush,_ you big baby. Hold still," Marguerite scolded, pressing the ice harder to his bruising knuckles. "We need to get the swelling down." Hans was in a great deal of pain, but the fact that he'd given Isaak a black eye was too delighting to let it bother him too badly. Marguerite sat, ice in hand, trying to nurse the poor prince's hand to health, Edvard beside them. "Now, tell me again how this happened?" Marguerite demanded in her motherly tone. Hans went to speak, but Edvard stepped in first.

"Hans here took out some pent up aggression on Isaak's angelic face," Edvard said, trying his best to contain his smirk. Marguerite grinned, shaking her head.

"Boys will be boys," she sighed before leaning in towards Hans, her kind eyes sparkling. "And Isaak has been needing a whooping for a long time, if you ask me. Always complaining about my cooking, make it your _damn_ self…" she muttered.

"_Marguerite_! Don't encourage him…" Edvard gasped, feigning mock disgust. He raised one eyebrow at his wincing, pain-ridden little brother. "Besides, Hans had a leg up on his brother. He may have a broken hand but it was Isaak that walked away with a black eye and a bruised ego." Hans smiled weakly, still on a bit of a high from the fight, and a little loopy from the pain medicine that Marguerite had fed him.

"What did he mean by that anyway," Hans mused aloud, his mind clearly on other things. "_I shall start with yours_," he sneered in his best Isaak impression, although it was still notable awful. Edvard slapped his brother on the back.

"I should say that means he will be trying to court princess Anna, wouldn't you agree?" Hans shook his head disgustedly. "I don't see what the problem is; he's distinguished, charming, _single_…" Edvard listed, although he sounded less than sincere.

"Manipulative, promiscuous, lying…" Hans continued. "No, Princess Anna would _never_ court someone like Isaak," Hans scoffed.

"Why not? She agreed to marry _you_…" Edvard pointed out, shrugging nonchalantly. "Are you not all those above things?"

"I still have one good hand, Edvard. I'd watch your words carefully…" Hans warned in jest.

"What does it matter to you, anyway. You can't stand the girl. Let Isaak take her off your hands," Marguerite suggested, beginning to wrap Hans' maimed hand in gauze.

"What? What happened to all of love and marriage talk from this morning?" Hans asked, his mouth agape at her complete change of tune. Marguerite sighed.

"You shot that down pretty quickly, I assumed you meant it…" Marguerite rationalized, her eyes darting from his hand to his eyes skeptically, as if she were trying to bait him. It was working. Hans sat, silently stirring. Even though Anna wasn't his favorite person in the world, even though her determination cost him the throne of Arendelle, he surely didn't think she deserved to be at the disposal of another Westergaard.

_ No, surely she doesn't deserve _that_._

"Well, I certainly can't just let her get wooed by Isaak, that would be disastrous…" He noted, before noticing Edvard and Marguerite staring at him. "F-for various reasons. Certainly he will break her heart, and then any trade negotiations with Arendelle will be back out the window…and I can't expect she'd be too kind to me at my trial if yet another Southern Isles prince destroyed her…" Hans said, rubbing his chin with his good hand in deep thought. "No, that wouldn't end well for me at all."

"Perhaps you could try… Oh, never mind…" Marguerite said, eying Edvard, who seemed to have a similar idea.

"What?" Hans inquired.

"You won't like it," Marguerite said, dismissively.

"After the food cart idea, I probably won't. But I am kind of at a loss here," Hans said, looking between his brother and Marguerite desperately.

"You could try being nice to her," Edvard suggested.

"_Ha_!" Hans exploded, unintentionally. "I mean, how does that solve me predicament?"

"Well, if Princess Anna was too busy being cared for and doted on by _you_, perchance she will be too distracted to be wooed by your brother, eh?"

"Here we go with the _love_ talk again," Hans sighed, running his hand through his hair, annoyed.

"No one said anything about love, Hans," Edvard said. "You don't have to get her to fall in _love_ with you, that would be another selfish, dishonest ploy of yours to get what you want. Why don't you try being her friend?" Hans sat, thinking it over. Perhaps it was the medication. Perhaps it was the victory he'd had over his irritating, awful brother. Perhaps it was human contact in general. But Hans felt himself warming up to the idea, and he realized he may have already discovered the perfect way to start over with Anna on the right foot.

* * *

The room was _freezing_, illuminated by a dusting of snow upon the furniture of Elsa's private chamber. She was pacing back and forth, haphazardly packing a satchel. Kristoff stood in the doorway, feeling quite uncomfortable with the idea of coming in any further to the Queen's bedroom. His hat was off, he was wringing it in his hands nervously.

"Wait…so…Anna is _sick_?" Kristoff asked, trying to stuff down the upset in his voice. From what he knew about the fragile Queen, she was most clearly worried enough for the _both_ of them, he didn't need to exacerbate things with his own apprehension. It was bad enough that Anna left without even telling him she was going, nor caring about what _he_ would think of the matter; now she was hundreds of miles away in the kingdom of their enemy, and sick to boot.

_ Oh, Anna…what are we going to do with you…_

"Yes," Elsa choked out, blinking away tears. Kristoff waited for her to elaborate, but it was clear she was too distraught to do so without prompting.

"Do they know what it is?" he inquired. Elsa shook her head, frustrated.

"No, just that it's bad. She's weak, she can't keep food down," she said, panic in her voice. "I'm such a _fool_ for letting her go, I should have-" Elsa grumbled, giving herself a firm scolding as she shoved various articles of clothing in her bag.

Kristoff felt nothing but pity for the poor woman, beating herself up for something she clearly couldn't control. He well enough that Elsa wouldn't have been able to stop Anna from going to the Southern Isles; when Anna got an idea of something she wanted to do, she went right along and did it, regardless of the odds. It was that same plucky disposition that got her into trouble most of the time.

Kristoff entered the room further, standing in the way of the Queen's pacing. He took hold of her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

"Not _now_, Kristoff-" she said, her face white with worry. He wasn't sure if it was worry for her sister, or worry that her uneven emotions could potentially leave him impaled on a shard of ice if he got too close. He assumed it was a mixture of the two, but he was willing to take that chance. He glanced down at her, his soft, sympathetic eyes meeting her own. He tried his best to keep from shuddering as he spoke to her; then again, he was used to being cold.

_ Ice is my life._

"Hey, it's okay," he said, calmingly. In fact, it was so convincing that he almost believed it himself. Elsa's face collided with Kristoff's broad, strong chest, and for a moment she let herself be weak, vulnerable. She let out a few gentle, silent sobs before pulling away and wiping away the tears quickly, defiantly.

"I leave for the Southern Isles tonight; please don't try to stop me," she said sternly. Kristoff stared at her, his eyes wide.

"I wasn't going to," he reassured. "But… if you'd let me, I'd like to come along, too." Elsa paused, furrowing her brow and thought before she shrugged a bit, nodded.

"That would be fine," she agreed, moving from his arms to continue to pack. Kristoff turned to leave the room, nearing the tall, chamber door. "I never should have let her go alone, Kristoff…" she said regretfully, her hands clasped together over her heart. Kristoff paused at the door, staring at the troubled Queen. A weak, ironic smile spread across his face.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, your majesty," he comforted. "At least she didn't feel the need to travel hundreds of miles away just to get away from you." he said somberly. Elsa's eyes widened, her mouth dropping. "I might not be the smartest man, but I'm not _that_ dumb…"

"Kristoff, no, I-" she stammered. "Look, Anna didn't-" she tried to defend the actions of her sister. Kristoff's smile faded into a look of muted sadness.

"It's fine, Elsa. Let's just go get your sister back, safe and sound."

* * *

Anna began to stir, awakening from her nap. She yawned, sitting up in the bed to stretch. She snapped her arms out, only noticing Hans sleeping, all propped up in the sitting chair beside her, when her hand made direct and sudden contact with his face.

"Ow!" he yelped, rubbing his nose. "Oh, _come_ on!" He glared right at her as she recoiled, giggling.

"Whoopsie," she laughed.

"Well, that's one way to wake up," he said rhetorically.

"You know, now that I think of it, I may have punched you in the face more times than I can count at this point…" she mused. Her face turned more serious. "Also, what are you doing here? I didn't ask for bedside service, you creep," she said huffily, pulling the blankets up to maintain her modesty.

"Oh, princess. I've seen _much_ more of you than that, no need to be shy," he said crudely, ripping her blankets down and off of her. Anna scrambled down towards the bottom of the bed, clutching the blankets in her hands, frustration painting her face. "And just think!" he leaned down, his face a mere few inches from hers. "If things had gone better in Arendelle, I'd have seen every _inch_ of you by now," he smirked. Anna gasped, pushing his face away with her hand.

"That's no way to talk to a lady, sir," Anna said, her eyebrows low.

"Well," he sighed, standing up and placing a hand to her forehead, checking for a temperature. She flinched at his soft touch, like a nervous cat. "It's a good thing there are no ladies here, then, right?" he said, turning and walking towards her door. Anna stared after him.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going _now_?" she asked, nervously, throwing the blankets off of her herself this time and standing abruptly. Hans glanced back at her, watching her wobble a bit, clearly underestimating her weakness.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, running back towards her and arriving just in time for her to fall into his arms. He held the princess up, who looked up at him embarrassedly through blue eyes and thick eyelashes, clinging to the fabric of the front of his jacket. "What are you _doing_?" he chuckled, flabbergasted at her erratic and desperate behavior. "Are you crazy?"

"Ohhhh, no you don't! I am _not_ getting left in here all alone again," she grunted determinedly as she pulled herself up to him, their bodies close.

"Why do I feel like we've been in this position before?" he joked, an eyebrow cocked. Hans glanced down at her, suddenly noticing just how incredibly thin and sheer her nightgown really was. He gulped, cleared his throat uncomfortably, and lead her backwards to sit upon the bed once more.

"Are you leaving again?" she asked, wringing her hands nervously.

"_Relax_, Anna. I was just getting something I left outside in the corridor for you," he explained, her cheeks beginning to pinken.

"Oh," she said quietly. "Well, what is it?" she asked, quickly deflecting from their previous awkwardness.

"Hold on," he said, and if she hadn't known better, she could almost even sense a smidge of excitement in his voice. He jogged over to the door, opening it and disappearing for a few seconds before reentering, wheeling in an old, wooden wheelchair. Anna gawked at it, unimpressed at first.

"A wheelchair?" she asked, flatly. Hans raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to connect the dots. Much to his delight, her face began to light up as she realized just what a wheelchair meant for her. "A wheelchair!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly and then cupping her smiling mouth. "Does this mean…you mean I can-" she stammered. Hans nodded.

"You may leave this horrible prison we've kept you locked up in," he said dramatically, wheeling it towards her. She reached out to touch it, as if it weren't real, so relieved that she could get out of that room, finally.

"Why did you- When can I-" she muttered. She glanced up at him, her smile beaming. "Why did you do this?" she asked. Hans shrugged.

"I figured that all those years stuffed up in a castle were enough," he said thoughtfully. She bit her lip.

"Thank you," she finally said. Hans made a face, sighing heavily. "What?"

"Well, I don't know how to say this, Anna but you look…" he paused, her eyes looking up at him hopefully. She truly was a natural beauty, even with her dark circles under her eyes and her wan, sick complexion. "_Awful_," he finished. Her face fell.

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Fancy Pants, I've been sick!" she defended. He laughed at her offense.

"Well, I can't present you at dinner tonight looking like _this_," he said, his hand up at his chin in thought.

"Dinner? Like…real food? With people?" she exclaimed, not able to contain the joy in her voice. Hans nodded, then turned towards the chamber door.

"Marguerite!" he called. From the hallway, Marguerite entered with a brush in her hand, a dress draped over her other arm. She smiled widely at the princess, an extra bounce in her step as she excitedly neared her.

"Such an honor to meet you, Princess," Marguerite beamed, curtseying. Anna looked between Hans and Marguerite suspiciously. She leaned towards Hans.

"Was she…just sitting outside the door waiting for me to wake up?" she asked accusingly. Hans waved his hand dismissingly.

"Oh, she was fine," he said. Marguerite nodded, happily.

"I didn't mind. I was just so excited to get to meet you, I've heard _all_ about you," she gushed. Hans glanced in her direction, laughing nervously.

"O-okay, Marguerite," Hans said, warningly, patting her on the back. "That's enough…"

"_Everything_."

"I see," Anna said smugly, eying Hans, enjoying the sight of him squirming.

"It's always, 'Princess Anna _this_,' or 'Princess Anna _that_,' with this one," Marguerite continued, much to Hans' horror. Her words finally trailed off as she noticed his death glare in her direction.

"_She gets it_," Hans snapped, embarrassed. He glanced back over at Anna, who was trying to suppress her laughter. "But…here. We've had a dress altered for you," he presented, holding up a royal blue gown with a heart shaped bodice, lined in gold. Anna's eyes grew huge as she reached out and admired the velvet top. "It was my mother's. Consider it a gift."

"You guys, this is beautiful!" She took the dress in her hands, delicately. "I…no. I couldn't…I can't!"

"Nonsense, she's not getting any use out of it, now, is she?" Hans said, albeit a bit morbidly.

"How-how do you know it will fit?" Anna asked, looking at Hans skeptically.

"Remember how I said I've seen much more of you?" he teased. Anna's face turned beet red.

"We took your measurements while you slept!" Marguerite spouted off, delightedly. Anna paled at the implication.

"Wonderful," she groaned.

"Oh, darling, you have nothing to be ashamed of," Marguerite comforted.

"_I'll say_," Hans mumbled under his breath, reddening when he realized he'd said it aloud. He coughed, nodded. "I'll leave you ladies to it…be ready in fifteen minutes, dinner will be served soon and we wouldn't want to be late," Hans instructed, back to business. After a couple of fumbling seconds, Hans turned and walked towards the door, stumbling and nearly tripping the Persian rug on his way out, before finally reaching the door and shutting it behind him.

* * *

Hans paced the hallway outside of Anna's bedroom chamber, realizing after a few steps that this was most likely going to be an ongoing theme for him, pacing. He didn't know why he felt nervous, just hoped that his actions would be recognized as kind in her eyes; he'd never been too good at that without it being a charade. He tried to remember who he was the first time he met her, how he impressed her then. He didn't feel like he was being a fraudulent version of himself, but then again so much had happened, so much had changed, since the night of the coronation.

He checked his pocket watch, realizing it was well past the fifteen minutes he'd allotted them. He considered knocking on the door, but what good was that? He'd just appear impatient and demanding, which he was, but he would really like to avoid seeming that way.

On cue, the doors opened, and Marguerite poked her head out.

"We're ready," she sang, a knowing and mischievous look in her eyes. Hans took in a sharp breath. Was _he_ ready? He didn't know. But there was no going back now.

"Alright," he said, waving her on. "Let's go on with it, then."

Marguerite opened the door wide, to reveal a waiting and lovely Anna. She was draped in the blue, velvet dress that seemed to bring out her eyes and make her hair pop all at the same time. Her hair was up in a braided bun, her cheeks rouged and her lips red, ever the picture of elegance and beauty. Hans closed his mouth, only after realizing that it was agape. He nodded, bowing down slightly.

"What do you think?" she asked, twirling a bit, the skirt flowing out to the sides.

"You look…" he paused, searching for the right words. The added pressure from Marguerite and Anna's hopeful faces didn't help. "It seems to fit you well," he settled on, watching their faces fall at the same time. "Now, let's get you in that chair before you wear yourself out."

* * *

Hans wheeled Anna down the corridor, giving her a full tour of the sprawling castle. They'd visited the ballroom, the library, the conservatory and the conference room. Hans was running out of neutral territories to show her, but she seemed happy and relieved to be out of her chamber.

"What about your room," she asked, a little deviousness in her voice.

"What _about_ my room…" he asked.

"I want to know where the Devil sleeps," Anna shrugged. Hans glanced down at her, who in turn looked upward at him, her blue eyes shining. Hans smiled down at her wryly.

"That would actually be my brother Sedak's room, and you certainly do not want to go in there," he deadpanned.

"What about the dinning hall?" she suggested, noticing they'd rounded the same corner for the second time.

"You'll be there for dinner soon enough."

"Well, show me your favorite room, then."

"I don't…" he paused. The portrait room! Of course, he'd not shown her the sitting area by the window, the portrait gallery. "Alright," he said, picking up the pace. Before she knew it, Hans had her at a sprinting speed, the wheelchair whirling down the corridors rapidly.

"H-Hey! Slow down!" she shouted, but Hans didn't listen. They approached a set of closed double doors, the momentum so great that she nearly flew out of the chair when he halted to a stop. "Thanks for the adrenaline rush, I think," Anna said sarcastically. Hans came around the chair, enthusiastically taking the princess' hands in his own.

"This is my favorite place in the whole castle," he smiled. She stared at him with a goofy, confused smile.

"Okay, show me.'

Hans turned and opened the doors with a bang, the evening sunlight pouring through the windows of the grand portrait gallery, illuminating everything in its warm glow. Anna peered in, beginning to wheel herself forward. Hans turned towards her, walking backwards, his arms outstretched.

"This is the portrait gallery," he announced, although the way she was looking around the whole room in awe made it clear she'd already drawn that conclusion.

"Wow," she breathed. "It's huge, way bigger than mine."

"My father had commissioned paintings from all the royal families we'd met."

"They're beautiful."

"I used…I used to spend a lot of time in here as a kid," Hans stated, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Anna glanced at him, her eyes widening.

"What happened to your hand?" she'd finally noticed. Hans pulled his hand away, extending it out and taking a good look at it.

"Oh this?" he asked. She nodded. "I broke it saving some orphans from a fire. You were asleep for a long time," he joked. She smirked, her eyes narrow, her face unconvinced.

"Yeah right, what really happened." Hans suddenly felt embarrassed to admit his scuffle with Isaak, since it seemed so petty and unimportant now.

"I got into a fight," he mumbled, almost inaudibly.

"With who?"

"My brother," he admitted.

"Which one?"

"Well, here, let me show you," he said, turning her around and wheeling her down a long row of handsome princes staring back at her, their portraits all hanging in a row. Her eyes grew large and her mouth hung open as she studied them.

"Wow, there really _are_ a lot of you," she breathed. He chuckled. "And you all look so much a like," she observed. "I've met this one," she said, pointing to Elias. "He's the king now." Hans nodded. "Is he married?"

"Yes, to Princess…well, I guess she'd be considered Queen now, Giana. She's very reserved and beautiful…Don't know what she sees in him." Anna smirked.

"And this one?" she said, pointing to the next portrait, the prince in glasses.

"Frederick. A serial bachelor, more interested in learning than anything else. And this one," he pointed to the next one, "is Galen. He's hardly here; he lives a more humble life in the kingdom of Gerveis, he'd got two cute little princesses of his own." Anna glanced up at Hans, surprised.

"I wouldn't expect you to have a soft spot for children," she said. Hans shrugged.

"They're not just _children,_ they are _my_ nieces. And they adore me, so the feeling is mutual. Plus, Galen's never been too awful to me." Anna's eyes reverted back to the paintings, eying the fourth prince.

"And this one?" she asked. Hans was quiet, taking in a deep breath.

"That's Andreas. He was the only brother that was consistently kind to me, growing up. He passed away a few years ago…he got quite ill and just never recovered. His widow and son live in Corona, now."

"My aunt and uncle are the rulers of Corona, and cousin is the Princess," Anna said, lightly.

"Rupunzel?" She glanced up at him, confused.

"Do you know her?"

"Yes, my family has done trade with Corona for generations. My brother Mathias was betrothed to her before she went missing as an infant, but by the time they'd found her she was already spoken for. She's wonderful," he recalled. "And this.." he pointed to the next one. "This is Edvard. He's a good man, he chose a life of celibacy and priesthood. He's here all the time, though."

"I can't believe one of you is a priest! That's hard to believe."

"We're not _all_ that bad, Anna," Hans sighed. "Well, not to others, at least. To me, they weren't so kind."

"Onto the next!" Anna demanded, changing the subject. "Are these two twins?"

"Yes, but they are drunks; they are not all that worth knowing, I regret to say," he said sadly. "They were especially hard to stomach, growing up. They did, however, give me my first taste of wine at nine years old."

"That seems a bit young," Anna reflected.

"Well, they only did it so they could tell my father afterwards, I got 10 lashes for that one!"

"Sounds awful," she groaned. She peered up at the next one. "Well, hello there," Anna growled, staring at the portrait of Isaak.

"Oh, _come on_," Hans groaned. "You couldn't possibly tell me that-"

"What? He's dreamy," Anna drooled. "Why didn't they send _him_ to Elsa's coronation, huh?" she jested, elbowing Hans playfully.

"Because Isaak has a reputation that usually precedes him."

"For being carved out of marble like a Greek god?" she teased.

"Uh, no. And I am going to pretend I didn't hear that," Hans sighed, Anna giggling. "And anyway, he looks much worse with a black eye," Hans said, finally alluding to his broken hand.

"_That's_ the one you got into a fight with!? Over what? Who has better hair?" she laughed, snorting a bit.

"Don't worry about it," Hans said simply, wheeling her forward.

"Well, _he_ doesn't look very nice," she observed, staring at the portrait of Sedak.

"He's not," Hans said, clenching his jaw. He rounded the wheelchair, kneeling down beside her. "Listen, Sedak is by far the worst of the Westergaards. Should you see him, keep your contact brief. Just…trust me on this one," he pled. She nodded obediently.

"I'm sure you have your reasons…" Anna said. Hans pointed to the next two portraits, another set of twins.

"Mathias and Magnus," he announced respectively. "Magus is Admiral of the Fleet of the Southern Isles Navy, just above me. They could not be any more different, though. Mathias is a poet, and he is engaged to Princess Agnus of the West Cannes."

"And this one?" she said pointing to Felix.

"Felix was actually betrothed to Elsa." Anna's face perked up at the mention of her sister's name.

"He was?"

"Yes, before your parent's…um," he stopped, realizing how insensitive this conversation was becoming. "Anyways, he is ruling Romany with alongside his wife, Queen Adelaide," Hans finished. Anna wheeled herself closer to the final portrait, eyeing it intently. She studied it, slightly awestruck before turning back towards him.

"Tell me about this one," she said simply. Hans shrugged, somberly.

"What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you want to say about him."

"What can I say?" Hans asked, rhetorically. Anna never let her gaze falter from his. He sighed again. "He was different from the rest of the brothers; born of a different mother, a commoner. And his brothers never let him forget it. So he tried very hard, to no avail, to impress his brothers and be noticed by someone. Unfortunately, it never got much better, either."

"I imagine that was very hard," she whispered. Hans quickly wheeled her around, taking her away from the shrine of the thirteen princes. He took her to the sitting window, where he pointed to a large, lifesize painting that hung beside it.

"Do you know who these people are?" he asked, rolling her right up to the family portrait of Anna, Elsa and their parents. Anna's eyes immediately filled with tears.

"Wha- how did you…where did you...?" she stammered, her words trailing off. Hans pushed her closer, her fingertips grazing the canvass over her own, young face.

"Your parents sent it long ago. I used to spend hours in here at a time when I was little, sitting in that window, reading books and talking to the enchanting, sweet princesses that stared back at me," he confessed. Anna swallowed hard. She didn't realize until this moment just how much she missed her parents, how much she missed Elsa.

"Hans, I-" she paused, wiping away tears quickly, but it was too late. He'd already seen that she was crying.

"What? What is it?" He asked, concerned.

"Just…thank you. Thank you for taking me out of my room today. Thank you for this, all of this," she said, her arms outstretched as she scanned the room all over again. He placed his hand on hers, smiling warmly.

"Thank you for letting me," he said.

"Your majesty?" They both jumped, startled to see a servant had entered the room, interrupting their moment. "Dinner is served."

* * *

**a/n**

**Wow, that was a lot to write tonight.**

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